Salvation
by Viv1
Summary: Sequel to My Cheerleader, My World. They stopped the exploding man 3 years ago in New York. But this time, the enemy is more dangerous, the hazards more intense. Are they ready for the ultimate battle? AU PeterClaire, ensemble. Updated for Chapter 22A.
1. Prologue

"**Salvation"**

**By Viv **

**(Sequel to "My Cheerleader, My World")**

Rating: PG-13 (this may be changed to R later)  
Characters/Pairing: Peter/Claire (AU)  
Summary: Three years on, and their lives were finally coming together. But happiness is fragile at best, and there are more tests to come for Peter and Claire.  
Spoilers: AU after 1.11 Fallout.  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, just borrowing. All NBC's and Tim Kring's. Please don't sue!  
Author's Notes: This is the sequel to my story "**My Cheerleader, My World**." This is an AU Paire fic. If you're against this, please do not read it. Also, there are a lot of references in the story to "My Cheerleader, My World", so I suggest you start with that before going onto this fic.

Feedback is love!

"**Prologue" **

Claire and I are irrevocably tied to one another.

Sometimes I catch myself inhaling her perfect beauty as I watch her sleeping so calmly at night. As moonlit beams reflect and shimmer off her tendrils of long, golden hair, I think of all the things that have led me to this specific time and place. So many things had to align for us to meet, not least of which was a message from the future. I hate to even contemplate what my life would have been like if not for Hiro's intervention. "Save the cheerleader, save the world" he had urged, desperation and something else – perhaps the complete loss of hope – locked in his eyes. What had that future Hiro seen that had made him risk so much to travel back in time, just to deliver that important message to me?

Claire had saved my life that day amidst the chaos that Sylar had wreaked. If not for her I would be dead and New York likely scattered as ashes in the wind.

Hiro had mentioned a scar and a time of helplessness before I'd found my purpose. I wonder if I've found my purpose now, after all that we've been through. There were so many of us in the beginning, but only a few remain now. Which is why I cherish each and every day spent with her so much; we all know how fragile life could be, even to such seemingly indestructible beings like us.

I watch her as she breathes steadily, her chest heaving peacefully up and down. I want to reach out and touch her just to make sure she's real; that she's not a part of a perfect dream I had conjured up in my scrambled mind. She's there with me everywhere and always, even when we're apart we're not really never alone. It's strange to think back to a time when we hadn't known each other; strange to think back to when I hadn't known down in the depths of my soul that she was my one and only perfect other.

We met one night in the midst of a war, although I hadn't known it until much later. They were the first steps that had led me to embark down the path that I've ultimately stayed on. She had been just a nameless mission to me, a figment of Isaac's precognition that was a blur of blonde, red and white. A figment that had come vividly to life in a mass of golden curls and sun bronzed skin, a figment that had burst abruptly like a blaze of sunshine into the enveloping darkness of my world.

I had saved her, but she had also saved me. Little did she know, she'd be asked to do it again scarcely three years later.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

"**Three Years Later" **

Claire studiously ignored her new roommate, staring listlessly at the open biology textbook on the desk. She had shoved her earphones on and cranked up the volume on her ipod in a last ditch attempt to shut out the blaring music emanating from her roommate's unfortunately high quality stereo system.

She glared out the window, debating whether to punch the living daylights out of her roommate like Niki had shown her or take her new nanchucks to the said stereo system and destroy their tauntingly crystal clear surround sound forever. The only thing stopping her wasn't the whole, reckless bodily harm thing that she could get arrested for; she just couldn't decide which course of action would yield the best result.

Luckily, a call on her cell phone disrupted her violent train of thoughts. Her demeanour brightened, viewing the caller id.

Peter's voice was playful and candid, and just on the right side of devilish. "What're you doing?"

Claire surreptitiously glanced over her shoulder, spying her roommate apparently trying to play air guitar while drunk as a skunk even before going to yet another frat party. "Ah, trying to study. Without much success due to the Lovely Roommate." She added ruefully.

The lovely roommate was known to other people as Lori Gale. Blonde, outgoing and dare she say it, big busted, she was a walking, talking frat boy's wet dream. She had been a cheerleader in high school and just like Claire had been homecoming queen. But that was where their similarities ended. While Claire was bordering on being anti-social with only a tight knit ground of friends, Lori could always be counted on to be the life of any party. Claire honestly believed that Lori actually did go to every party on campus, even as one as spread out as NYU.

Claire shuddered at the thought that she could have ended up like that if not for the strange turn that her life had taken three years ago.

Three years had passed since Claire had landed so unceremoniously on Peter's doorstep at his old apartment on the lower east side. Since then, their lives had changed dramatically while somehow remaining essentially the same. She had lived at the Petrelli home (she still couldn't think of it as anything but a mansion that deserved its own zip code) while she had attended the local high school, finally graduating with a precious diploma that seemed to make everyone but her insanely proud. By that time, Peter's family had almost become her family, with even Nathan being coerced into attending her graduation. Although he had rolled his eyes at Heidi forcing him to attend, she could tell that at least some of his sarcasm had been strictly for the sake of appearance.

Peter of course, had been there. After his – well, their resolution she supposed – to keep their relationship platonic, he had been careful to put the brakes on their closeness for a while. But their friendship and natural intimacy had soon reasserted itself and if they frequently felt frustrated at having to repress a certain part of their emotions from each other, they were careful enough to avoid talking about it.

Claire was now a junior at NYU, enrolled at the College of Arts and Science. She had no idea what career she ultimately wanted to pursue but she knew it would come to her soon. After all, Peter hadn't embarked on his first career until the age of 26, and she was still only 20. She still had a few years up on him as she liked to remind him frequently.

Everyone that had come together to defeat Sylar were still more or less in touch. Niki, DL and Micah had moved to New Jersey, where they had been happily living ever since. Mohinder and Isaac were of course still living in New York, and Hiro and Ando were also sharing a flat close by in case of emergency. Isaac had been through a rough time after Simone's death and it had taken all of them to rally him from the brink of self-destruction. Isaac was still occasionally prone to violent outbursts or random teary confessions; it was clear to everyone including Claire that he had loved Simone to distraction. Losing her had almost made him lose his mind.

Mohinder had moved out of his father's old apartment, preferring to start over with a clean slate. Although he had been a genetics professor in India, he had been forced to produce another thesis to gain recognition for his qualifications in the United States. This he had just done at the Rockefeller University and he was now happily immersed in academia, the upshot of which was that his research into all their genetic anomalies was suddenly a lot better funded than it had been before.

Out of everyone that had survived that day, only Matt and Audrey weren't in the tri-state area. Matt had returned to his wife in Los Angeles to find that she had been pregnant; they soon had a bouncing baby boy to look after. Audrey had returned to Washington DC, benched for a number of months before regaining her active status. But the distance hadn't hindered them; whenever they were needed Matt and Audrey always found a way to help them out. Audrey and Nathan kept in frequent contact, especially during his visits down to Washington DC on business.

Some things had changed yet some had stayed the same – case in point, her friendship with Peter Petrelli. It was the one constant Claire felt she would always be able to count on.

Peter sniggered. "That's good to hear. Well, not the part about not studying." He amended. "But since you're being disturbed anyway, how about grabbing a late dinner?"

As usual, he somehow seemed to have read her mind. Her stomach had been rumbling and it was only her enormous reserves of stubbornness that had made her not vacate her own dorm room. Lori was truly one of the most annoying people on the face of the planet, although Claire grudgingly admitted that her heart was occasionally in the right place. "Oh my god, you totally read my mind."

"Good." He chuckled. "Cause I'm right outside your room." Claire couldn't say she was all that surprised. One of the things that had definitely changed about Peter – he was no longer as unassuming as he had been when they had first met. These days he seemed less like the hospice nurse and more the grown up, confident man that his family had always wanted.

There was a series of sharp taps on the door. Peter indeed was standing right outside. "You must've been sure I was hungry." She teased. "What if I said I was totally full? Like I'd had a massive dinner and heaps of ice cream and just totally collapsed from the weight of everything I'd eaten?"

"Then I'd tempt you with _more _food. Come on Claire, I know you. You wouldn't be able to resist, say, Ciao Bella gelato to name just one thing." Peter slid gracefully into the room, bending down to give her a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Besides, I've seen first hand the devastation your appetite can wreak."

"You make me sound like a heffer." She complained. Suddenly she noticed the complete absence of heavy metal and realised that Lori was staring at them, eyes wide with curiosity. Great. She had been putting this moment off with her new roommate for as long as possible, knowing her nosy nature and penchant for spreading gossip. In a way, Lori reminded her strongly of Jackie in her nicer days.

Claire cleared her throat, wanting to do this as smoothly and as quickly as possible. "Lori, this is Peter. Peter, Lori. We have to go now." She rushed to her side of the room, scooped up her favourite mid-length red coat and grabbed Peter's hand. She yanked him unceremoniously out, barely giving him enough time to smile and wave a greeting before slamming the door closed.

"Ow." He mocked her, pretending to be pained. "I think you're squeezing my hand just a little too hard."

"Oh please, you're indestructible." Claire brushed his concern aside. "Now what do you feel like tonight?"

Peter pretended to think about it while Claire looked on, rolling her eyes. "Just say it."

"What?" He feigned a hurt look, although a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth.

"You feel like having something but you feel guilty about it, so you're going to make me suggest it. It's got to be something like … Chinese. Or no wait, hot dogs from the putrid guy on the corner who hasn't had a shower in like, the last gazillion years."

"You wrong me."

"I _know _you." Claire retorted, pulling him down the stairs in exasperation. "Lets go and eat your hot dogs, I'm starving."

* * *

The cool night air was a pleasant relief from the vapid stuffiness of her dorm room. Although Claire absolutely loved being at NYU, her living conditions were a lot to be desired. Nathan (at the insistent prodding of Angela Petrelli) had offered to contribute to her living expenses through college but Claire had steadfastly refused their kindness. They had already taken her in when she had needed a place to stay, treating her like a part of their family and making sure she was well taken care of. She was invited to all their birthdays, anniversaries, Thanksgivings and Christmases. She wouldn't have felt comfortable taking a cent from them and frankly, Claire was more than a little curious about making her own way in the world, a free and independent spirit.

She had rethought that independent ambition briefly after seeing the size of the college loan she had to take out for her tuition. But she stuck with it and was glad she had done so. Claire was now well on her way to being a grown up (with a sizeable student debt) and now she just had to figure out exactly what she wanted to do with her life – besides being indestructible in a fight.

Between her part time job at the local bookstore, her classes, Peter's crazy work hours and their clandestine forays into saving the world, it would have been natural for them to have drifted apart. But even to Claire's surprise they hadn't. Their hectic schedules had forced them to somehow navigate the obstacles with good humour and temerity and they ended up seeing each other most nights of the week.

Claire and Peter had a kind of intense, strange friendship that caught many by surprise. She hazarded to say that not many people beyond their own circle really understood how they worked, but that added to their allure. And it was just how Claire liked it.

Claire looked on in mock disgust as Peter stuffed half a hot dog into his mouth in a single bite. "You must've been hungry." She noted dryly, frowning at his haste. He was usually exhibited very pristine manners and she had gotten used what his mother had instilled in him. But moments like these reminded Claire that Peter was still essentially a 29 year old man at heart.

"Oh my god, you have no idea." He looked like he'd just tasted ambrosia and gone to heaven. "I've been hanging out for that the whole day."

"You must've had a boring day then." Claire took a dainty bite out of hers, savouring the unhealthy yet strangely addictive taste. She generally tried to stick to healthier foods, making exceptions for ice cream, potato chips, chocolate and well okay, generally everything else that tasted divine.

"You have no idea. I can't believe I'm still working for Nathan. The guy's a slave driver." Smiling in boyish satisfaction, they walked for a while before seating themselves on a bench. As he often did, Peter began grumbling about his day. "He always sends me out to do his dirty work for him, smooth his messes up with people. Just because I can empathise and be nice. It's not that hard, he should try it sometime."

"Well, you can also read minds and stuff, which helps." Claire reminded him while guiltily running her eyes down his body. She had to admit, even when stuffing half a hot dog in his mouth, the man had a way of making it look elegant and well, attractive. Of course, it didn't hurt that he was wearing a suit that was tailored to an inch of his life, nor that his midnight blue shirt successfully brought out the intense stillness in his eyes. His forever perfectly floppy hair which never seemed to get frizzy or windblown didn't hurt either.

Claire shook her head inwardly. She really had to try harder to keep these kinds of thoughts out of her jumbled brain. Although she had lived with it for a very long time now, she couldn't help it. The guy was hot and what could she say? She had always been a little in love with Peter Petrelli, ever since he'd so unceremoniously burst into her life in Odessa.

"Claire?" Peter eyed her curiously. "I think I lost you in between the heavenly hot dog and the story about the clown masquerading as a Senator."

Claire shook the fog from her thoughts. "Sorry, I … was just thinking." About something besides him that was. She rushed on hastily. "I'm not really looking forward to the inquisition from Lori when I get back. She's heard a lot about you and she's been dropping not-so-subtle hints about … you know."

"Really?"

"Don't be flattered, it's not like _that_." Claire retorted indignantly, not willing to boost his ego any more than it currently was boosted. One thing that had changed about Peter was his almost unshakeable confidence in his abilities; and it showed in everything he did now. He was no longer the man who was content to save the world just one person at a time, he wanted to hatch grand plans to help as many people as he could. Claire was still trying to adjust to his new found assurance. "Just that we're always out doing stuff, you know? Bound to be questions." She rolled her eyes, tired just thinking about it.

She had explained her relationship with Peter to interested people many, many times in the past few years and Claire was becoming increasingly exasperated by it. When people noticed her friendship with Peter, they inevitably got ideas about their status. She didn't know why it was so fascinating to think that a guy and a girl couldn't be friends in a completely innocent, emotionally intimate but entirely non-sexual way, even if at least the girl was definitely having indecent thoughts about the guy in question.

Peter sensed her irritation, his jovial mood evaporating. "Questions? What do you mean?"

"You know, questions." Sometimes Peter could be incredibly dense, which was also a very guy-like trait. "About us."

"Like what?"

Was he mentally deficient? Did he really not get how difficult it was for Claire to be attracted to him on the one hand, but on the other being content to just be his best friend? She took a deep breath to calm herself. "People always think we're dating or an item or something. Then I have to explain the whole 'friendship' thing and they just get this _look _like they don't believe me and then I end up spending the next twenty minutes trying to convince them that we're not dating, or going out, or any other variant of the concept. And then they still walk away not believing me and it's just – " She gave a little scream of frustration. "Frustrating."

"Well …" By this time, Peter had finished his hot dog and had tossed the remains in the trash can. He gave her a curiously shy look, choosing his words carefully. "Well, maybe you won't need to explain it anymore."

It was apparently now Claire's turn to be dense. "What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat, wiping his mouth of crumbs and ketchup. He had obviously not planned this moment and seemed to be a little strained by what he was about to say. "I mean … why don't we make it official? Try … dating. Or a variant of the concept." He mumbled, staring intensely down at her.

Claire's heart leaped to her throat. Had she just heard what she thought she just heard? "Stab me with something." She ordered him.

"Excuse me?"

"Stab me with something!" If there was a slight trace of hysteria in her tone, Peter pretended not to notice it. "Otherwise this could be a figment of my imagination. Or a dream. I know you're supposed to get people to pinch you to check but honestly, I don't even feel it anymore when people pinch me. You'll have to stab me with something, really, really sharp and –"

Peter laughed tautly, grabbing her frenetically waving hands with his own. "Claire, I mean it. We've waited long enough. You're a college junior now, we've settled down into our lives. I think it's time."

She had waited for this moment for three long years. In her dreams, the moment had always been perfect. The moonlit night would form the backdrop to the declarations of feelings that was the culmination of a story they had started writing together long ago; Peter would glance at her and in that arrested moment of ultimate understanding, they would know that they were meant to be.

But now the moment was finally here, she found herself speechless and a little unsure. Peter looked at her with expectant eyes, his nervous smile slowly transforming into a frown. "It's only if you want to." He couldn't have backtracked fast enough. "There's no rush. Or even if you don't feel that way anymore – "

"Oh my god!" She couldn't believe he doubted her, even for a second. "I'm just so shocked, and … shocked. And … happy. Are you sure?"

"Yes." Happiness and relief coloured his features. "But I don't want to pressure you or anything, I mean there's still the age thing and our powers and –"

Claire cut him off with a kiss. Although it was more than a little awkward after their years of friendship, not to mention the unromantic ketchup and mustard lingering in both their mouths, the kiss they shared at that moment was more than worth the wait.

She had kissed Peter before – she remembered that morning vividly in her dreams, on that lumpy old couch – but this was different. Whereas the first kiss had arisen from the desperation of finding themselves in a fight for survival against Sylar, this one was infused with their longing generated from their years of comfort and friendship they had spent together. It was sweet and tender, a moment that she would remember forever.

They finally broke apart, staring at each other sheepishly. Claire blushed despite herself, looking down at her hands in confusion. Peter cleared his throat. "So … I guess we should get you back to studying."

Claire was still a little breathless from their kiss. "Yeah. I suppose so."

They stood up, Peter hesitating before taking her hand in his as they walked back to her dorm. Claire had to admit the moment was a little surreal. "You free Friday night?" He asked her suddenly, flashing that lopsided smile she liked so much. "We can go out or something. If you're free."

"Definitely." Claire grinned back at him cheekily, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "It's a date."


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"**All In the Family"**

As usual on a Sunday morning, Peter and Claire headed out to his family home for their weekly Sunday brunch. The tradition had come about by pure accident during Nathan's Congressional campaign when he had invited a reporter to show off his purposed family values. Peter had abruptly gatecrashed it and had manipulated Nathan to his heart's content. Peter still chuckled about that. It was one of the few times he had been able to blackmail his brother. Usually it was the other way around.

Claire lagged behind as they walked up the grand driveway. Peter turned to see what was keeping her, exasperated, as she precariously balanced a plate of cupcakes in one hand and a bag of full of god knew what else in the other.

They were so far down the path of friendship now that Peter could only look at the small blonde fondly for her penchant for cupcakes and other baked goods. His mother employed a full time chef to service the now quite full Petrelli household so there was no reason to bring something else to the table. When he had asked her about it once she had puffed up in defiance and rejoined that she wanted to contribute something as a way of thanking his mother for everything that she'd done for her. As long as Claire didn't rope Peter into her baking escapades, he was okay with whatever she did.

"Need any help?" Peter asked sarcastically, all the while not intending to extend any sort of help at all. He had done so many times and had usually been met with a haughty look of disdain from the small figure. One of her pet hates was people thinking that she wasn't capable of doing anything. Peter already knew first hand that she was capable of anything and everything – she had shown him that on the day she had saved his life.

Claire was puffing slightly from the walk when they reached the grand entrance. "Are you okay there?" He asked curiously.

She made a muffled sound to the effect that she was fine. "Just a little puffed is all. I always forget how large your house is. And how far it is from the street."

"We could've caught a cab straight to the door you know." Peter said pointedly.

"I know." Claire, giving up the show of strength, shoved the bags she had been holding at him. "I just wanted to enjoy the sunshine. It's such a beautiful day out."

Peter looked down at her warmly. "It sure is." He repeated, no inkling what the weather was like at all. All he could see – all he could sense – was Claire.

He was relieved – and he couldn't emphasise this enough – to know that their wait had been absolutely the right decision. Chaos and confusion had brought them together and there had been too much turmoil around them back then. Add to the mix the exponential enhancement of Peter's abilities and Claire's family situation – if they had begun something then, it may not have worked out and that had been a chance Peter had been unwilling to take.

As it was, their time had finally come. The moment hadn't been planned but somehow, Peter knew it had been the right time. Good things come to those who wait, and three years had been a long time to wait.

She caught his intense stare. "What? Do I have something stuck in my teeth? Is it my hair?" Her hands flew to her freshly trimmed locks. He was glad that she had kept her hair long and lustrous; he absolutely loved how much they resembled a golden waterfall. She, of course, was completely obsessed about his dark, 'comic book hair', flatly forbidding him to change it on pain of a very painful death. They had often joked that the entire foundation of their friendship lay in keeping their respective hair styles and each other happy. "Does it look hideous?" She asked with anxiously.

"No. You look perfect." He gazed down at her, wondering if he was coming off just the wrong side of too strong. Peter was a person who wore his heart on his sleeve. His old girlfriends had found this trait disconcerting in the past. He usually tried to tone it down whenever he met someone new, but he knew he didn't have to pretend with Claire.

The effect of his adoration on her was electrifying. Despite having been friends for so long, their relationship was still new to them – fledging in fact. It had only been a few days ago that Peter had surprised the hell out of her _and _himself by suggesting they were ready for a relationship.

A faint hint of a blush fell over Claire's cheeks and Peter had to suppress the urge to kiss her.

They were soon in the marbled foyer, putting their bags down before joining the rest of his family outside in the sunlit, spacious patio where they usually ate brunch. Approaching the French doors which had been flung wide open due to the mild weather, Peter stopped Claire and deliberately seized her hand.

She was surprised by the gesture, but she understood. Peter was trying to start things right; the last thing he wanted was for her to feel like they had to hide their relationship from anyone. She beamed, her entire demeanour radiating happiness.

His mother was the first to notice their entrance. "Peter, Claire. You're finally here." Getting up to plant a kiss on both Peter and Claire, she caught sight of their entwined hands. Far from making a big deal out of it, she smiled knowingly at him. "Well, sit yourselves down. Nathan will be done in a minute, he's just got to take care of some business. Of course, he said that half an hour ago so I think we should start without him."

Heidi walked in slowly behind his mother, aided now by only her crutches. She had endured a painful rehabilitation for two years before being able to stand and walk again. Peter had to admire his sister-in-law's ultimate aim to fully recover from her injuries.

Surprisingly, Claire had been instrumental in helping Heidi with her rehabilitation. They had never talked about it, but Peter suspected that seeing Heidi work so hard to regain something that Claire took so much for granted had driven her in an entirely new direction. Claire's power to instantly regenerate guaranteed that whatever injuries she suffered she could recover from and it must have been an eye opening experience to see someone else – someone who admired – endure so much just to regain what Claire would always have.

"Claire." She gave Claire a peck on the cheek, spinning deftly around to do the same to Peter. "Peter. You two look well." Claire instinctively grasped Heidi's arm, supporting her as they walked arm in arm to the table. They chatted amongst themselves and immediately ignored Peter. His two nephews were busy waging a war against each other at the corner of the table, and Heidi had to snap mildly at them to simmer their impending violence down.

"Anything he needs help on?" Peter asked his mother with concern. Things had been tense for them in the past few weeks. Nathan had been busy supporting a bill promoting federal tax cuts for low to medium income earners and had been subjected to a lot of pressure from within his own party. Peter had been helping Nathan grease the wheels to keep the vote alive. Sometimes he felt kind of dirty for doing it, but in recent weeks he had also come to believe in what he was doing. Some of Nathan's methods were certainly dubious but in the end, his brother believed in the same things he did. He wanted to make the world a safer, better place.

His mother waved his worry aside. "Oh I'm sure if he needed it he'll ask for it." She sat down and promptly started eating. "You know him well enough to know he's not going to be shy about asking." His mother had a point and since it was such a bright, warm September day, Peter was content to let the matter drop.

As usual, the brunch proved scrumptious and hard to resist. Eggs Benedict, scrambled eggs, toast, English muffins, an assortment of pastries as well as fresh fruit, juice and the finest tea and coffee were all laid out on the neatly pressed linen. Added to the delectable selection was Claire's home made cupcakes, something which Peter secretly enjoyed but did not openly encourage, fearing that Claire would become indecently obsessed with baking and make him eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Nathan only managed to grace them with his presence half way through the meal. Slapping Peter good naturedly on the back, he winked as he walked by Claire. "Nice to see you two made it. Even if it was half an hour late."

Claire stuck her tongue out at him. "You're one to talk. You can't even turn up on time to brunch in your own house."

Nathan crisply sat down, immediately helping himself to a generous serving of Eggs Benedict and toast. "Well, it's my house Bennet." He snapped good naturedly at her. Seeing his sly wink, Claire stuck her tongue out again, making Peter turn away to hide his smirk. Seeing Nathan and Claire interact always made him want to smile at the change that had occurred in the past years.

Claire had quickly gotten over her natural shyness around Nathan. Peter knew his brother projected an imposing and often intimidating persona, but he was a good person at heart, a fact he had proven once and for all when he had refused to leave Peter's side at his near explosion. If Nathan was prone to frequent mood swings and to bouts of sarcasm, those that loved him soon learned to accept it as a flaw and move on.

Peter's theory was that Nathan's heart had been won over at seeing Claire's persistent support of Heidi during her rehabilitation. Nathan's Achilles heel had always been his wife and family; anyone who was genuinely kind to them received his whole hearted approval.

Heidi was now bringing up the subject of Claire's future. "Have you given any more thought to what we talked about?" She asked pointedly, making Claire stop chewing toast in mid-bite.

Claire sipped some coffee before replying carefully. "Yeah I have."

"Oh?" His mother's curiosity was peaked. Claire's future was a topic she had brought up with Peter repeatedly in the last year or two, irritating the hell out of him. It was like she was worried he wasn't giving enough thought to Claire's future, when it was all he could do to _not _think about her future. "What's this?"

Heidi explained. "We talked the other day about what direction Claire should take with college. She's a junior now, it's time she made some decisions about her future."

"I whole-heartedly agree." Nathan interjected despite still chewing on some bacon. "You don't want to end up like Peter, wandering around not knowing what you want to do with your life."

"Hey, I'm sitting right here." Peter protested.

Nathan continued, completely ignoring him. Peter felt like he was invisible which he knew for sure wasn't the case at this particular moment. "You need to make a good, firm decision. Pick something you're going to stick with. What kind of things are you interested in?"

"I've already decided." Far from sounding unsure, Claire appeared confident, resolute. "I'm going to be a physical therapist."

Her declaration completely blindsided Peter. It wasn't like he had never contemplated the possibility that Claire would have a career after college, or that she would be interested in something other than saving the world. But Peter had to admit all his energy had been focused on _not _thinking about Claire in a specific romantic manner, his myopia had meant that he had overlooked other parts of her life.

He had always assumed that he and Claire were best friends and that they told each other everything. Peter certainly had held up his end of the bargain, and until this moment he had nothing but absolute faith that she was upholding hers.

Claire had never once mentioned to him that she had wanted to become a physical therapist. His mood darkened, thinking about what else she hadn't told him.

If anyone noticed his rapidly darkening features, no one commented on it. Everyone was nodding in approval at Claire's resolution, even Nathan. They all seemed happy that her goal seemed so sensible and in keeping with her abilities. Somehow it was fitting that a girl with instant regeneration should help others regain their health.

They retired indoors after the meal. Claire flung him a questioning gaze, no doubt noticing his abnormal silence over the rest of brunch, but Peter avoided it cleverly. He had no desire to put into words the feelings he was experiencing at that point in time.

* * *

"You've made mom pretty happy." Nathan smirked, perched behind his desk. Judging from his expression, it was obvious that he was going to tell Peter something he really didn't want to hear.

They were in Nathan's office inundated with piles and piles of draft legislation that somehow all had to be read by tomorrow; right now Peter was so tired he was lying on the floor, using an annoyingly worded bill as a very hard pillow to rest his head on. He had a brief open that had lost his interest as soon as he had turned the first page; it was lying face down on his chest where it hadn't moved for the last hour or so.

Peter couldn't resist taking the bait, sighing in resignation as he lifted his head up slightly to look at his brother. "How?"

"You and Bennet." His brother replied crisply, stealing a glance at Peter on the floor. Due to the lateness of the hour, he had loosened his tie and had his feet up on the desk, sipping a glass of whisky. "You finally made a move I see. About time."

"Nathan, do we really have to talk about this?" Peter mumbled, his face reddening. He was a grown man and usually wasn't the slightest bit concerned about having his love life poked and prodded by his brother; in fact, he usually welcomed sharing more of his life with him. But because of Claire's close connection with the rest of his family, Peter found his brother's comments slightly awkward.

Add to the fact that he had been unfairly irritated at Claire for the rest of Sunday afternoon. She had finally gotten tired of his mopey self-righteousness and had told him to get over it already because although they were best friends, it didn't mean they shared absolutely everything. It was humanly impossible to do so and there were just some things Peter weren't meant to know about her. She had cautioned him crossly. "If I catch you reading my thoughts, you'll be a dead man walking."

Of course, that had snapped him out of it. Having Claire mad at him was not an ideal situation in the best of times.

Nathan barked out a laugh. "That's what I like to see. " Peter rolled his eyes to the ceiling in resignation. He was being tortured by his older brother just like old times. "Little Petey squirming in his own mess."

Peter rolled expertly out of Nathan's verbiage. "It's not a mess." He protested. "Claire and I … you must've known it was coming."

"Hell yeah. I'm just glad it wasn't when she was still a minor. That would've taken some explaining, believe me." Nathan quickly reverted to his sophisticated persona, pulling out the decanter from the cabinet behind his desk and poured himself another drink. He offered one to Peter who declined warily. "Anyway, my point was that you've made mom pretty happy."

"And why's that?" Peter was curious despite himself.

"Seeing you and Bennet this weekend, coming in hand in hand." Nathan smirked, as he took a sip. "I'll bet you everything I own she's already mentally running down the list of places to have the reception. Somewhere grand enough to uphold the family honour."

"What?" Peter blinked owlishly. "Oh you mean …" He blinked more rapidly now. "Reception? What? Claire's only 20 years old! We've only just started … we've been friends for … oh come on, she can't be serious!"

Nathan chuckled. He was having way too much fun with this for Peter's comfort. "What can I tell you, our mother's nuts. She's always been that way."

"What?" Somehow it was very important that Peter set the record straight. He sat up suddenly, so fast it almost made his head swim. "We … Claire and I … she can't be thinking that! We've been dating for about 3 days. Claire's still in college. I'm – she's … that's crazy."

Nathan seemed to take pity on his younger brother. "Oh lighten up Pete. Tell you what, I'll talk to her about it. Mom will simmer down, she's just overexcited at the prospect of another Petrelli wedding. You know mine was a long time ago." Nathan winked at him.

Peter's mouth was dry at the possibility. The idea of marriage hadn't even occurred to him. His entire existence for the past few years had been devoted exclusively to his friendship with Claire, keeping a handle on his powers and reconstructing the closeness he once shared with his family.

Marriage? Claire was only 20 years old and they had just started a very cautious relationship. And Peter had not quite gotten over the fact that he had nearly exploded three years ago and still potentially could generate enough concentrated power to put a crater three times the size of New York by the sheer force of his will. Everything pointed to them taking things nice and extremely slow.

"At ease soldier. It's not that big a deal." Seeing the alarm simmer down on Peter's face, Nathan continued soothingly. "Look Pete, you've always been a dreamer, head stuck up in the clouds. You've found Bennet, who let's face it, has drawn the short end of the stick getting lugged with you. Frankly I'm surprised she's willing to saddle herself with someone who's such high maintenance. How many times have you landed yourself in hospital?"

"Hey." Peter was able to breathe enough to be offended. "I'm quite a catch you know."

"Sure you are."

"Why … why would mom even think that? I mean, for me sure but – for Claire?"

"Crazy does run in our family." Nathan gave a mock sigh. "What are you, blind as well as deaf? That girl's had a thing for you since the beginning, plain as day. Even someone as self-absorbed as mom saw that. Why do you think she offered to take Claire in? She didn't want you messing with her when she was still in the cradle."

Peter felt quite stupid at the moment. It had honestly never crossed his mind that his closeness with Claire had been so obvious to his family. They had always thought their friendship had been close but not overly so to excite questions from those around them, but it turned out that this had never been the case.

It was something to ponder on the way home – if and when he actually got out of the office tonight.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

"**Reunion"**

Claire led a pretty busy life in New York these days. Sometimes, when she stopped to catch her breath, she still couldn't believe this was her life. From her relatively normal childhood in Odessa, her power had catapulted her into a life that she would have found unbelievable a few years ago.

She never imagined she would end up going to college in New York. Of course, grown up things like college and getting an education were one of the furthest things from her mind when she had been a cheerleader, but she had always assumed that she'd end up doing the normal sorts of things that normal kids did. She'd do her SATs, get an okay enough score to land her at say, a college like North Western, be a good co-cheer captain to her squad. At college, she'd hopefully get into a good sorority. Beyond that, Claire didn't have the slightest inkling what she'd do with her life.

But things – and people – had changed her. Now she was at NYU, studying to be a physical therapist. A decision that Heidi Petrelli had patiently talked her through and if Claire had to admit it to her formerly shallow self, it was something that felt right.

Claire had been surprised by Peter's reaction toward her decision. She saw that she had blindsided him with it, which had made her realise afterwards that although they had always thought they told each other everything, that obviously wasn't the case. They were as close as Claire had ever known any two people to be but they were still two different people and it wasn't realistic to imagine that they could be absolutely everything to each other.

They had had a throw down about it at Peter's apartment after Sunday brunch. She had ranted at his insensitivity her decision – ironically enough, given the source. He had rocked back about her lack of communication. In the end, he'd collapsed onto the couch, expelling an exasperated breath. "I'm sorry." He said in resignation. "I have no idea what's going on with me lately. This is … I'm genuinely happy for you Claire. It feels right. I'm not sure why I'm … feeling like this."

She came to sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulders. "Are you okay Peter? Lately it just seems … Are you happy working for Nathan?"

He smiled, his eyes murky. "You mean, is a former hospice nurse happy working for his shark of a brother? Yes. Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know. I don't feel … quite right."

Claire had pursed her lips, reluctant to voice her thoughts. But this was Peter. "Is it … I mean, me becoming a physical therapist. It's like we're in bizarro world where you're the corporate worker and I'm –" She grinned self-consciously. "I mean, formerly shallow cheerleader becoming a caregiver? That must be weird."

"You were never shallow." Peter had murmured, gently taking her hand. "And for the record, I'm proud of you." He leaned in and gave her a lingering kiss, his caress making her catch her breath in excitement. She was still yet to get used to this new side of their friendship. Claire didn't know whether she really wanted to get used to it. "I think it's a great idea."

"Yeah?" Claire had beamed at him, her eyes shining brightly. She hoped it didn't make her less of a person to admit that his approval – or blessing as it was – while not needed, certainly made her feel a lot surer about her decision. She trusted Peter with her life and his agreement clinched it for her. "I have to confess something to you about it though." She added timidly. Peter tilted his head curiously. "I … I've always admired you when you were a nurse. It made me … I don't know, it inspired me? To know that real people could be so nice and giving. It's like, you showed me how to be a better person." She chuckled in embarrassment. "I think I just quoted a really line from some really lame movie."

The effect of her words on Peter was electrifying. Far from sniggering at her obvious lameness, his features diffused from confusion, to astonishment and then finally to awe. Claire had never confessed that particular thought to him before and it felt good to finally be able to say it to him.

He opened his mouth to say something but rapidly closed it again. Instead, he drew her to him, giving her a deliciously lingering kiss that melted her heart and stayed with her for the rest of the day.

* * *

Claire found that she never really had a moment to stand still and take stock. She was forever running between classes, her part-time job at the local bookstore, meeting up with Peter, going back to visit Peter's family, and when she could spare the time, catching up with the other Heroes that resided in the tri-state area.

Hiro had first coined the term and now all of them used it as a backhanded acknowledgement of their unusual abilities. It had evolved into a sort of secret code name for those who had been involved in defeating Sylar and of course extended to those with no unusual powers but had still been vital in the battle. Sometimes, when Claire thought about 'powers' and 'abilities' and how normal those words had become to her, she couldn't quite believe this was the world she lived in now.

Today she had arranged to have lunch with Niki, Isaac and Hiro at a diner around the corner from Nathan's office. Ando was busy with his job at a software company and Mohinder was forever stuck in his office doing some new thesis or research or other.

Niki and the others were already there when Claire rushed in, fifteen minutes late. It was a running joke amongst them that Claire couldn't be on time even if it meant saving the world. Peter, although fully in love with her, was often exasperated at her tardiness. Her only defence was that hair like hers didn't come naturally. It took many hours of preparation to smooth, de-frizz and generally make it look presentable to the world.

"I'm _so _sorry." She sat down, immediately not liking the amused stares from the others. "What? Is it my hair?"

"Nothing." Isaac smirked, looking down at the menu to unsuccessfully hide his amusement. He had only recently ditched the long haired just out of rehab look and was now quite a clean cut figure. His chocolate brown hair had been trimmed short but still retained that slightly straggly look that made him look so artistic. "Just that we already factored in when you'd show up according to Claire time. And a little birdie just told us the latest news about you and a former hospice nurse from Manhattan."

Claire shot Niki a look, who narrowed her eyes dangerously at Isaac. "I think that little birdie could kick your ass with both hands tied behind her back." She smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "I thought I told you to keep it subtle, not to go all schoolyard on the poor thing."

"Ow." Isaac rubbed his shoulder in mock distress. "That really hurt."

Hiro grinned at his friend's pain. "I think it's wonderful news. Congratulations."

Claire flushed with embarrassment, not knowing where to look. Congratulations? What were they, about to get married or something? And what the hell was it to anyone whether she and Peter were dating or not? She had told Niki knowing the others were bound to find out but she hadn't counted on it being so soon. "Ah … thanks." She abruptly grabbed a menu and pretended to be immersed in it. "Enough about me, what's new with you guys? Anyone need saving? The world in danger any time soon?"

Hiro, ever the earnest diplomat, stepped in to smooth things out. "You mustn't blame Niki. Isaac drew it in one of his paintings before she even told us. We just …" He looked sheepishly at the two blonde women glaring at him from across the table. "We were just really bored."

"Yeah, it was …" Isaac stopped, noting Claire's discomfort. Taking pity on her, he gave her a peace offering. "Maybe you can get it framed. It's a pretty good painting even if I do say so myself."

"And you do." Niki noted dryly, taking a sip of her coffee. The scars on her hands and arms that were a reminder of her last fight with Sylar still visibly lingered. Both Peter and Hiro had offered to lend her the funds to laser the scars off, but Niki had stood her ground and refused. Claire thought that her friend may have had her reasons to keep them as a reminder to how close she had come to death.

Careful to change the subject, Niki continued. "Micah's doing really well at school. His teacher said he should skip a grade at year end. At this rate I'd save a bunch on tuition."

They quickly caught up with each other's news. Isaac and Hiro were 'men of leisure' as they so frequently referred to themselves (which was really code for not doing much at all), but Niki and Claire were often too busy to meet up with the others like this. Niki worked as a waitress and was only free to have lunch when her shifts allowed, while DL worked long hours as part of a construction crew. Peter and Nathan were of course, office junkies who practically lived at Nathan's headquarters and even while Nathan attended Congress. Peter was left to hold the fort.

But despite everything that had happened and all the changes that had occurred in their lives, they still found a way to keep in touch. Saving the world and each other probably had something to do with their bonds of friendship.

Peter had promised to come if he could spare the time. True to his word, he appeared punctually at 1pm, his eyes scanning the now crowded diner to search out Claire. His dark eyes brightened as they met her blue ones and he quickly made his way to their table.

The same looks of amusement that had greeted Claire were now directed at Peter. Far from being fazed, he smirked and leaned down to give Claire a deliberate kiss. Claire couldn't help but feel a rush of pleasure as Peter's lips met hers. She loved that he could be such a sensitive person on the one hand but devilishly unconcerned about others on the other.

If the others were going to comment on their lingering gazes, Niki's glare obviously made sure they didn't share it. Claire didn't care that she and Peter were being a little on the lovey-dovey side; she had heard from reliable sources that the first weeks of a romance were always the honeymoon weeks and was to be enjoyed. Claire was hell bent on fully enjoying hers to the maximum.

With Peter's arm wrapped securely around her small frame, Claire couldn't complain that this honeymoon phase thing wasn't an enjoyable experience. "Sorry I'm late. What's been happening?"

They caught Peter up on the news. Fortunately for them, there was nothing earth shattering to share and the lunch ended up being a good opportunity catch up. Hiro was still having issues with his father, constantly doing figurative battle just to be able to stay in New York and keep a look out for any dangers to the world that may crop up. From time to time, with Ando in tow, they would visit Matt in Los Angeles to see how he was doing. Isaac continued to paint steadily away, able to control his visions now so that they took less of a toll on him. He sold a few choice pieces in order to pay the bills but only to galleries who had assured him they no longer did business with Linderman. He had never met the man, but Nathan and Niki had assured all of them that being connected with him in any way was a really, really bad idea.

Needless to say, Isaac had taken Simone's death hard. Peter and the others had too, but it wasn't the same for them. Isaac had an artist's heart and soul, an artist's capacity to feel and appreciate the exquisite joys and pains that love could inflict; and unfortunately her death had made him feel the worst possible feeling on earth. Peter had admitted to Claire once that he would have been in the same position if he didn't have Claire and his family in his life.

Claire wasn't privy to the full extent of Isaac's grief, but she had implied from Peter frequent concern that he may have been a danger to himself at one stage. Isaac had blamed Peter for a long time for Simone's death and had been openly hostile, making it difficult for Peter to help. It was only with Hiro and Ando's friendship that Isaac had slowly recovered. And although Peter and Isaac appeared to be friends now, in his darker moods Claire wouldn't have been surprised if Isaac was capable of throwing a snide comment or two Peter's way. Far from being offended, Peter just took it in his stride. He understood – and empathised Claire supposed – with Isaac's feelings, and he knew he wasn't to blame for the way he felt. It was just the way the world worked.

The conversation took a slightly serious turn. "I have heard about your father." Hiro said, looking hesitantly at Claire. "Have you heard from him lately?"

"I'm still not … ready. I can't face him." Claire shook her head ruefully. "Why do you ask?"

Hiro shook his head, poking at the remains of his salad. "I heard from my father. There seems to be some new developments at … their organisation. Something he's trying to find out."

Panic surged through Claire. "Like what?"

"I don't know. That is all he could tell me." Looking at Claire's distress, he nodded reassuringly. "I'll try to find out more."

Claire had a thousand more questions to throw at Hiro but a glance at her watch told her that she was already late for her next class. Bidding the others farewell, Claire swiftly left, Peter accompanying her outside. "Are you okay?" He asked quietly, glancing down the street before they crossed the road.

She tried to smile but she knew that Peter would be able to see through her easily. That was something she knew even without questioning. "Yeah, I just …" She sighed, squeezing his hand. "I don't know why he still bugs me. You know, my dad? It's like, I should hate him but I don't, I love him. But I can't _trust _him. And because I don't trust him I can't face him. How weird is that?"

"It's not weird at all." They walked slowly down the street towards Nathan's office. "It's just going to take time. You'll be ready when the time's right." He smiled down at her supportively. "I think it's safe to say you can trust your instincts on this one. After all, your instincts did save the world."

They soon reached the entrance to Nathan's office building. Glaring at the revolving doors like they were the sentinels to his own personal hell, Peter pulled Claire away to the side. He looked down at her with eyes glowing with feeling, taking both her hands in his. "Here's something that may or may not cheer you up."

"What?" His sudden change in demeanour snapped her out of her temporary anxiety.

"I was thinking, this weekend, Nathan's going to be at Washington. Mom and Heidi will be at the annual spa weekend." He took a deep breath, feigning nonchalance. "We should do something, go away somewhere. If you want to. It may be moving a little quickly but, we've waited for a long time. Maybe we don't need to wait any more."

Claire blinked, then gulped, then blinked some more. The thought of going away for a romantic weekend with Peter had certainly crossed her mind more than once, but she was nervous at the prospect. Bringing in the romantic layer to their friendship meant that Claire would have to finally deal with a lot of things that she had been coaching herself to wait patiently for. There were certain – let's just say – physical aspects to a relationship that she had yet to experience, aspects that she had been rather impatient to explore. But now that the time had almost come the prospect was making her nervous as hell.

In short, at 20 years old, Claire Bennet felt like the oldest virgin in the world. Which she knew couldn't possibly be the case, but it didn't help that the entire college experience seemed predicated on sexual experimentation, experimentation that Claire had been determined to avoid because she wanted her first time to be with the man standing in front of her. And now she foresaw even without Isaac's precognition that her determination would ironically be the cause of many hours of anxious contemplation.

Peter's smile slowly faded in the face of her continued silence. "If you don't want to, it's fine Claire." He tried looking non-plussed but Claire could tell it had thrown him for a loop. Well, that made the two of them. "It was … just an idea."

"No, no. It's … a great idea." Claire swallowed down some of the panic that seemed to be lodged in her throat, smiling through her irrationality. She wanted this, she had always wanted this. But why was she so nervous about it? "It's just, you surprised me, that's all." She blinked a few more times, more successfully throwing off her unreasoning dread. This was stupid. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind about the depth of her feelings for Peter. "I'd love to go away with you." She beamed vibrantly up at him, tilting her face up as she leaned against his chest. "Where are we going?"

Peter half-frowned, half smiled, looking at her curiously. "Are you sure Claire? I don't want you to feel like you have to, like –"

"I'm sure." She hastily cut him off. She hoped her momentary hesitation wouldn't put any funny ideas about her feelings in his mind. "It's just I've waited … so long, you know? For you, for us? I think it's just …" She scrunched her nose in confusion. "The expectation, it's … there. And because I've waited, I haven't –"

It was Peter's turn to cut her off. He pressed his forehead against hers, cupping her face in his hands. He seemed to understand what she was feeling. "Hey … this is you and me. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"I know." She whispered back, inhaling his delicious scent. Peter always made her feel so warm, so safe. It was crazy to think that he wouldn't understand what she was going through. "I know."

And that was when she first heard the words that would always make her stomach churn, her heart race, her pulse quicken to the end of her days. "I love you." He whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you and I've waited so long to say it. Don't you ever forget it."

His voice – his emotion so clear for her to see – almost broke her heart in its simple beauty. He had said what had been in her heart all along, ever since she had first laid eyes on him in the halls of her school. She had been young then and confused. But that hadn't change how she'd felt about him, how she had always felt about the darkly handsome man with the sparkling eyes and sensitive nature standing with her. "I love you Peter, I always have. You know that, right?" She asked with a little uncertainty.

Nodding, he leaned down to kiss her. Their lips brushed and as always, their electric contact almost brought tears of joy to her eyes. That feeling of being so close, so connected to him was like ambrosia to her.

They stood locked together, oblivious to the slightly amused stares of passers by as they went about their busy lives.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

"**Always"**

One of the odd consequences of being with Claire was that Peter tended to wait around in her dorm a lot, getting acquainted with her roommate whether he really wanted to or not. Peter smiled warily, perched precariously on the edge of Claire's bed. He glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time, unable to suppress a yawn at what passed as conversation with Lori.

It wasn't that he found Lori boring – merely indistinguishable from a lot of people he was forced to meet working for Nathan – and he had had a long day. But thanks to Claire's tardiness – something which often irritated Peter –he had found himself knowing more about Lori over the past week than he really ever wanted to know.

Claire's roommate seemed nice – in a typical college junior, preoccupied with guys and partying and clothes kind of way. The difference between her and Claire could not have been more stark. Although they were the same age and had the same sunny personality, Claire and Lori were thankfully, entire galaxies apart.

Peter glanced down again, sorely tempted to bend time to jump to when Claire decided to show up and be done with pretending to be nice to the vacuous roommate. But he refrained from doing so; he knew that to try would tempt fate.

The abilities he had absorbed from everyone – flight, telepathy, telekinesis, time and space manipulation, radioactivity, instant regeneration, super strength, ability to go through walls, control over electronic equipment and probably a few more he wasn't even aware he'd picked up – they were all still there inside him, buried in some dark crevice of his mind. Claude had impressed on him during their month long sojourn in Nevada after his near explosion how important it was to attain gradual control over his powers. If Peter rushed into anything – like accessing all his powers simultaneously – he'd most likely be risking the lives of millions of people along with his own.

Over the last few years, Claude and Mohinder had had the opportunity to study him more closely, each from their unique perspective. Peter didn't like being a glorified lab rat but he knew that he owed it to everyone, especially his family and Claire, to do everything in his power to make sure what almost happened in New York never happened again. So he had submitted to Mohinder's relentless genetic experiments, and Claude's whacked out sense of teaching, to learn about himself.

Sometimes though, when he lay awake at night, feeling the power coursing through his veins, he itched to use them. Stretch his figurative legs so to speak. A persistent voice always ran through his mind these days, willing, urging, begging Peter to let loose. Just the one time, to feel the wind rushing past his ears, feel the clouds at his feet, feel his skin stitch itself back together after being ripped apart, listening to the dozens, hundreds, thousands of minds that reeled about him in turmoil and confusion, crush a man with his bare hands. Just to feel what it'd be like stepping into the shoes of so many people, so many lives. To feel and be exhilarated by it in turn, feel in control of himself and his destiny.

The temptation was never so great as when he found himself alone in his apartment staring at the ceiling in the witching hours of the night. Often it would come after yet another nightmare, Sylar's murder at his hands haunting him over and over. Peter's entire being always shook just thinking how easy it would be to use one or two or three of those powers that still resided persistently within him, use them and be the most powerful being that had ever walked the earth. Be a God amongst mortals, have the ultimate control over his own destiny.

But he'd pull back, just in time. Those thoughts, those feelings – they were the reasons why he'd continued working for Nathan even after his brother had fully recovered from his injuries. He had to throw himself into something that didn't involve thinking about his abilities, or anyone else's for that matter. He had to grind his way through life until he could find his way past himself. He had been surprised that no one besides Claire had questioned it, and all the while the voice continued to nag and eat away at him.

_Use your power. _It told him. _It's your turn to be someone now. _

No. Peter feared using his powers too much, feared what he'd be tempted into doing. Sometimes he reasoned that, if he could use those powers to save someone's life, wouldn't the risk be worth it?

Well, maybe not. He was becoming vaguely aware that the temptation tasted sweeter these days and it was something he wanted to talk to Claude about. Unfortunately, his wayward mentor had decided three years on the job had been stressful enough and had imperiously declared to Peter a month before that it was time for Claude to have a "bloody good holiday". He hadn't heard from him since.

Peter sighed, glancing at his watch again. Logically, he should've readjusted his timing so that he turned up even later than Claire did. But Peter had been brought up with a strict code that involved punctuality on a date and even being with Claire couldn't change that. He tried to be politely attentive to Lori chatting away, oblivious to his darkening thoughts.

"… of course, I said, it _so_ wasn't worth it and just walked away. I mean can you imagine? Don't you think that's funny?" Peter laughed politely, wondering what he was supposed to be amused at. Talking to Lori made him feel, well, old. He began seriously forming a plan to excuse himself.

"So, ah, how're you finding college this year? Taking any good classes?" Thankfully Peter could still recall his college years, filled with long days of alternatively wasting his time or joining yet another cause he was passionate about, in between occasionally going to classes. Far from being a model student, he had had his share of escapades. It was one of the reasons why he marvelled at Claire's overall togetherness at 20.

"Some good ones, but I hardly go to any." Lori chewed on a strand of hair, looking at him with speculative eyes. "You and Claire are dating now, right? I mean, you guys were always hanging out, what's with that? And you only just started dating?"

Oh boy. It was going to be one of _those _conversations. Why were women always so superficially interested in other people's business when it didn't concern them in any shape or form? "We're friends from way back." Peter muttered, trying to divulge as little information as possible.

He gave Lori a charming smile, hoping she'd ignore his complete lack of a response. "So what's up with you? It's a Friday night, a girl like you must be off somewhere special." He was trying to distract her with herself.

It worked wonderfully well. "Oh, the usual. Me and some of the guys are hitting this new place tonight. It's meant to be super hard to get into but Damian, he knows one of the bouncers, so he said he'd be able to get us in." She was apparently flattered by him. "Maybe you can come with us." Her gaze flittered down his body, from his polished shoes to his finely tailored suit up to his slicked back hair. "With Claire of course."

"Of course." A crooked smile crept onto Peter's face. Although completely misguided, he had to smile at her obvious flirting. It was nice to know he still had it, whatever 'it' was. "I promise I'll think about it." He leaned forward, lopsided grin prominently displayed for her benefit. "Especially with such a tempting invitation. How could a guy refuse?"

"Easily." Hearing Claire's waspish tone didn't exactly make him jump in distress, but it did remind Peter what he was doing in her room. Maybe it was a result of them being so used to each other, but it hadn't startled Peter one bit to hear her voice, along with her lithe frame looming behind him. "I think you said we were going somewhere else tonight Peter."

He turned, getting up to give Claire a more passionate kiss than usual. It seemed to placate the tiny Texan as the displeasure melted slightly from her face. Instead of intensely annoyed, her expression turned to merely being peevish. "We are." He looked down at her jeans and shirt, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Maybe you need to change. The place where we're going tonight … that might not be part of their dress code."

Claire bit her lip, looking a little uncertain, hitting him squarely in the chest. "Oh you're such a know-it-all." She grumbled, the twinkle returning to her eyes. "You'll have to wait for me to get dressed then, it may take a while." She looked between Peter and Lori. "I'm sure you'll be able to entertain yourself."

Peter winked at her in response, intensely enjoying her jealously. "Wear your red dress, the one with the asymmetric strappy thing." He called out, perversely enjoying her irritation. Peter was a glutton for punishment but he had a good reason for it – Claire was exceptionally cute when she was mad.

When she was finally ready – and Peter's patience had worn thin by then – Lori and her cadre of suitors had already left after Peter had refused her repeated invitations to join them. He'd wandered aimlessly around the tiny apartment, Claire's secret collection of teddy bears no longer providing any amusement to him. He already had to call the restaurant twice to delay their booking; he could tell that the maitre d' was one tantrum away from blacklisting him forever. Which wouldn't matter to Peter in the slightest, but he'd booked under the name 'Petrelli' and it was one of his mother's favourite restaurants. And his mom took food a whole lot more seriously than he did.

"Finally." He exhaled in exasperation. He spun, only to find all the breath being sucked out of his body at seeing Claire in the aforementioned dress.

She came out looking half-confident, half-coltish, gauging his reaction self-consciously. The dress hugged her body in all the right places and highlighted her curves perfectly, making it obvious to anyone that she had a figure to die for. The red complemented her bronzed, flawless skin, making her entire form appear luminous and even more alluring than usual. The rich shade contrasted her clear blue eyes, making them sparkle intensely in the dim light.

Claire was a vision of perfection and it made Peter's head swim just being in her presence. He had seen the dress before, but not on her. She had bought it a few weeks ago and had shown it to him like a treasured possession, lamenting that she had nowhere to wear it to. But now she did and she looked gorgeous. Seeing her in it had been well worth the wait.

Peter would not have been surprised to find his jaw on the floor. He'd lost all control of his motor functions and had to take a few breaths before trusting his voice to work properly. "You look … beautiful." He gasped. "Beautiful. You look … beautiful." There were a lot of other words he could have used but his brain seemed to have stopped working. He was content just to stare and not drool, which was ridiculous. He was a grown man and this was – well, this was the Claire that had teased him relentlessly that one time he shaved his hair off, that picked off all the chocolate icing from the chocolate cake they both liked from the pastry shop around the corner, and the Claire that had dumped ice cubes down his shirt last summer for calling her a midget.

But she was _his _Claire, and his Claire was perfection in a silken, womanly form.

She was pleased by his reaction. "Well, I'm glad it meets the strict dress code for this place we're going to." She was able to relax now. "Otherwise it'd take me forever to change." Peter's heart was racing. He wanted to skip the whole dinner thing and get straight to the afterwards where he could just rip her dress off, but reigned himself in. Now was not the time to test the limits, not yet. "Peter, I think it's your turn to say something."

Peter had to swallow a few more times, reminding himself that they needed to go to dinner now. That was the whole point of getting dressed up and well, what had been the point? "I … think we should go, we're already late." He picked her purse up from the bed, handing it to her with slightly trembling hands. He was a 29 year old man for god's sakes and this wasn't the first beautiful woman he'd been out on a date with. He had to get a grip on himself and behave like a normal human being and not some crazed lunatic.

But who was he kidding? She wasn't just any normal person. She was Claire. The way she had grown from a headstrong teenager to this vision of womanly perfection standing wide-eyed in front of him was the stuff all his dreams were made of. He clasped her to him, tenderly tracing his hand down the contour of her cheek while using the other to stroke the curves along her waist. "You look gorgeous Claire." He gave her a smooth, delicate kiss, mindful to not disturb her make up and exquisitely curled hair. He bent down, trailing kisses down the crook of her neck, taking a long moment to inhale the sweetness of her scent. Her skin warmed under his touch and the effect on him was deeply arousing.

Her giggle brought him slightly to his senses. It reminded him of the girl she had once been, someone who was also fun and mischievous besides being gorgeous and resourceful and prone to teasing the hell out of him just for her own amusement. She was also someone who was his friend and someone he'd like to have dinner with if they weren't too late for their reservation.

Grinning, he closed her hand in his and they walked out of her room.

* * *

Claire looked skittish as she observed the restaurant, clearly ill at ease at the splendour around her. Peter had to admit that this wasn't the sort of place they normally went to. Usually because of their hectic schedules, hot dog stands and diners were more the rule of thumb when they grabbed meals together rather than exquisite restaurants.

Sensing her discomfort, Peter reached out across the table and grabbed her hand. "You okay?"

She smiled, giving a small shaky breath. "Yeah. It's just …" She gestured around them. "Everything's so wonderful and gorgeous. I feel like someone's going to come up and tell me I shouldn't be here. That I don't belong or something."

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. She had such titanic confidence in her own powers, it was easy to forget that underneath there was still a slightly insecure girl – woman, he corrected himself – lurking there for only those closest to her to see. "For the record, you look like you completely belong here. And you're the most gorgeous thing in this room so I wouldn't worry."

She gazed at him gratefully before breaking their connection. Grabbing a bread roll, she broke off a piece, munching hungrily. "You were flirting with Lori, you know." It wasn't so much a question as a statement, delivered with a neutral tone to gauge his reaction.

Peter hid a smile, quirking an eyebrow. "Maybe a little." He admitted, careful to examine her for signs of jealousy. "Why, you're not jealous are you?"

"Oh please, as if." She scoffed, breaking off another piece and stuffing it into her mouth. "You can do whatever you want." She chewed thoughtfully for a while before blurting. "I always flirt with the guys in my sociology class, it's no big deal."

"That's comforting to hear." Even knowing how obviously she was trying to push his buttons, the thought of Claire flirting with a bunch anonymous and probably a lot more buffed college guys made him irritable. Even if the said flirtation was almost entirely fictional to get a reaction out of him, he couldn't help but wonder whether a small part of her wanted to go out with different people, try new things. They had been each other's worlds for so long, did a small part of her want to see what was out there? If so, would Peter really blame her?

No, he wouldn't blame her, but it did make him want to gag a little which scared him even more. He realised how dependent on her he had become. He had insisted on them waiting and building up a friendship because she had been so young. But had he overlooked his own pathological need for seeking intimacy? Nathan had always told him he tended to throw too much of himself into people he loved. Was this what he was doing with Claire?

If Claire noticed his rapidly sinking thoughts she didn't let on. She changed the subject adeptly, popping the last piece of the roll into her mouth. "Peter, you know you didn't have to bring me to a place like this." She rushed on. "Don't get me wrong, I love it. I get to wear my gorgeous dress and these shiny shoes. But you know … hot dogs and pizzas are just fine. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy."

"I know." Peter stared thoughtfully into her clear eyes. "I just thought I'd do something special now that you're my girl." The comment was meant as a joke, but enough of his thoughts slithered out to imbue it with a more serious intention. "You _are _my girl now, right?"

The dazzling smile she gave him would have been enough to electrify an entire town such was its wattage. Any doubts that he had about her feelings evaporated like morning mist in sunlight. "I've always been your girl Peter." She replied quietly, looking around furtively before leaning forward to give him a kiss. "Always."


	6. Chapter Five

_Please note the change in rating from PG-13 to R_

**Chapter Five**

"**Crossing the Bridge"**

Claire still couldn't believe they were doing this, the whole weekend getaway thing. She felt so grown up except for the blinding panic it set off just thinking about what was expected. Not that Peter was going to force things in any way, it was just … well, Claire really wanted this. She just wasn't sure how 'it' was going to go seeing as she had no actual experience to go on besides gossip and hearsay.

Claire had even gone as far as asking Niki for advice. It was certainly one of the more embarrassing episodes of her life, but she wanted to be sure things were done properly. She didn't want to put any pressure on herself and having another female to talk to who wasn't in any way partial to Peter (or related to him) was an added bonus.

To her credit, Niki didn't crack a single joke at Claire's expense. The older woman had been thoughtful, sensitive and contemplative, allowing Claire to ramble through her various concerns without interruption. In the end, Niki had given Claire some valuable advice that had reduced her nerves down to a minimum.

Peter had jokingly suggested that they go to Paris for the weekend, something to which he had apparently given some serious thought. Off her look of alarm, he had laughed. "Relax Claire, I was joking. Although ..." He had smirked handsomely, suggestively raising a brow. "Remember what I said about Paris once? Maybe we'll get there someday. I wouldn't rule it out altogether for our trip."

Of course she remembered. They had been on the run from Sylar and her dad, forced to stay in a run down motel that had seen better days. Claire remembered they had been forced to share a bed that night on account of the hideously carpet and Peter had very honourably put everything but the kitchen sink between them just in case anything untoward happened.

There was no danger of Claire not remembering; she treasured every moment spent with him especially now knowing how fragile memories were. If anything, she could probably be accused of being a little too obsessed with all things Peter Petrelli.

To Claire's relief, rather than Paris, Peter suggested his family's house in the Hamptons. Which was fine by Claire seeing as she had never been out there and was eager to see more of the state. Since coming to New York, she hadn't ventured very far out of the city itself.

Peter had borrowed one of Nathan's cars for the trip, not bothering to actually tell him. He had given Claire a sly grin, tucking his bangs behind his ear. "With everything I've had to put up with lately, he owes me. Besides, he'll never miss it."

"I didn't even know you knew how to drive." She had glimpsed this playful, less serious side of Peter before, but it had never been so apparent as it had been the last couple of weeks. She enjoyed seeing him loosening up, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders if even for a moment. His dark eyes, which were always so piercing, shone and sparkled in the morning sunlight.

The car that Peter had "borrowed" turned out to be a sky blue Mercedes SLK convertible. Claire was a girl and therefore not biologically capable of appreciating cars as a work of art, but even she was impressed by its sleekness and power, so much so that she dropped rather obvious hints that she wanted to have a turn behind the wheel. Peter had smiled enigmatically, brushing his dark hair off his face. "Maybe later."

She had pouted, a technique she knew from past experience was capable of driving him – quite literally – crazy. "Pretty please? I know how to drive a stick shift." She had wheedled. He had swallowed hard, promising her a turn later behind the wheel.

And so they had cruised out of the smouldering congestion of New York City. Seeing the tall skyscrapers melting into suburbia and then later into leafy forests, Claire had never felt freer in her life. The wind whipped ferociously around her wreaking havoc with her hair, but she didn't care. With every mile they put between them and their normal lives, Claire was escaping with Peter into a dream world where only they existed. "This is fantastic." She shouted to Peter over the roar of the wind. She wasn't entirely sure that he heard her, but his grin let her know that he felt the freedom as keenly as she did.

The trip seemed entirely too short for seventy odd miles. Claire took a deep breath, enjoying the sensation of being so close to the sea. It was now fall, but the day was mild enough to evoke images of what the area would have been like filled with summer holidaymakers and tourists. Comfortable, leafy holiday homes merged imperceptibly into grander, statelier versions until they were finally cruising amongst country estates that looked like they had leaped straight off the homes of the rich and famous.

It shouldn't have been a surprise to Claire then, that Peter drove them straight through a set of impressively wrought but understated iron gates. They followed the long, winding drive up to the main house until the front entrance disappeared from the rear view mirror behind them.

They arrived in front of an impressive house – estate really – situated on park like grounds that was set back from the lane by a healthy looking hedge. It looked like a fairy tale summer wonderland with its elegant eaves and sprawling, almost lazy feel. Everything about the Petrelli Hampton home conveyed old world affluence and charm. To add to the distinct atmosphere, the salty smell of the sea hung in the air around them.

Peter quickly hopped out and began unloading their bags, offering to act as Claire's tour guide later on as he did so. It seemed incredible that someone as self-effacing as Peter came from these privileged surroundings. Sometimes it was easy to lose sight of just how different she and Peter were, how different their upbringing had been. They had literally come from two different worlds – no, scratch that – universes. It wasn't until this moment that she completely understood what Nathan and Heidi and everyone had warned her about a relationship with Peter.

She wasn't sure why it had struck her now. If anything, it should have become apparent when she had first been taken into the Petrelli family, living in their home in New York. Surrounded by their friends and family, the social circles of the haves and the have mores – that should have alerted her to how different she and Peter really were.

Maybe it had been there all along but she had been too young to see it, her inner voice whispered. The thought deflated her mood slightly. She caught Peter giving her a strange look and attempted to cover up her confusion by running over to help with the bags. If Peter was curious about her momentary lapse, he was careful not to betray it.

Peter had told her on the way there that their Hampton abode was situated on a two acre block, something that really didn't sound too big to Claire at the time, but turned out to be really quite impressive now that she was actually here and able to walk through it on foot.

The house was impressive in his lack of ostentation, at the same time suggesting an older, grander beginning. It was apparent that it had been freshly painted and renovated recently, from the brilliantly white French doors that overlooked an ornately landscaped garden, framed with rose bushes that were just beginning to die out, to the grey slate roof tiles that gleamed in the late morning sunlight. Leafy oaks dotted the park at comfortable distances around the estate, giving everything a slightly countrified feel.

"Peter … it's beautiful." Claire breathed, hardly daring to put another step forward for fear she'd be lost forever to the paradise beckoning before her.

She could tell he was trying not to be blasé about everything, but his familiarity with the house couldn't be covered so easily. He shrugged imperceptibly, one of their bags on each shoulder. "Yeah, it's pretty nice." He paused, struggling to keep his hold. "Not as beautiful as you though."

Even after a week of his blatant and very gratifying worship, Claire still wasn't used to being called beautiful on a daily basis. The only other person who had reminded her so readily of her worth had been her father and even then it was in an entirely different manner. Peter made her feel so wonderful, so alive and so worthy at the same time.

To cover her flustered state, she ran to help him with the bags. "Here, I don't think I should let you do all the heavy lifting. Nathan will kill me if you sprain something and had to be admitted again." The Petrelli family had an ongoing pool about when Peter would manage to land himself in hospital again. Of course it was all in jest (mostly) as Peter had thankfully avoided any further stays since his last run in with Sylar.

Peter laughed sarcastically, letting them a little petulantly into the house. "You better watch it, or maybe you won't be getting your tour after all."

"Oh, I think I can manage to persuade you." She said coyly, giving him a doe-eyed stare. She was gratified to see that the effect was almost immediate. His lips moistened and his eyes widened, unwittingly fixed on her rosy lips. She dropped her pink overnight bag onto the polished hardwood floors which landed with a heavy thud. She walked slowly up to him, wrapping her slender arms around his neck.

All Peter could do was blink several times as she leaned in slowly. He stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights, still holding one of their bags in each hand. Claire waited until the last possible moment to pull away. It was a little funny really, seeing his entire body so primed and ready to go.

Peter made a strange whimpering sound. "You're a tease." The thought finally occurred to him to drop the bags. She giggled at his crestfallen expression, his pout making her explode into a fit of laughter.

He stood waiting for her laughter to subside, hands on hips. He really did look a little put out. Claire felt slightly bad, so she draped her arms around his waist and gave him a long, lingering kiss that left both of them breathless. "Aw, I'm just playing Peter, you know I love you." Her smile dipped a bit as she realised that it was the first time she had said it to him since their slightly melodramatic declarations the day before. But she needn't have worried, the Cheshire-like grin that broke out on his face told her that he loved hearing her say it.

Claire made a mental note to say it more often. The smile faded from his expression then, leaving a wondrous, slightly bewildered look. It seemed like the thoughts and feelings that were racing through Claire's mind were also mirrored in his. She couldn't believe she and Peter were finally here – they had finally made it to a point in their lives when a connection wasn't forbidden, their closeness was safe and their love open for all the world to see.

She stared at him, noting his lustrous lashes that curled into infinity and the darkening passion in his wide, beautiful eyes. She found her hand idly tracing the contours of the scar on his chest that, although covered by his tailored striped shirt, she knew for a fact was there.

He tilted her face up to his gently, slowly, as if savouring the moment and those to come. Their lips met at the instant that the hearts connected, everything around them melting into a meaningless abyss. Nothing in that crystalline moment mattered to Claire besides being close to Peter and nothing was more important that she being able to love him the way he deserved to be loved.

* * *

They spent an incredible day exploring the extensive grounds. True to his word, Peter had obediently acted as tour guide, impressing her with his knowledge of his family estate. Although it was never mentioned, it was obvious that growing up, he had spent quite a few hours exploring the grounds on his own and getting to know the people that actually kept the place as gorgeous as it was. 

"How big is this place?" Claire breathlessly asked, stunned by the beauty around her.

"About two acres. It's not that big." Peter had shrugged, constantly amused by her awe.

They explored the town and its surrounds for the rest of the afternoon, with Peter relinquishing control of the convertible. Everywhere she looked, the greenery was relentlessly beautiful. She could now understand why the rich and famous were so keen to set up their summer homes in the Hamptons. "I had no idea it was so great here."

Peter chuckled, giving her a quick kiss. "It grows on you, that's for sure."

They had dinner back at the house at the gazebo overlooking the Grunite pool. Marble benches lined the pool on either side, with the leafy oaks providing comfortable relief from the setting sun. Peter had even gone as far as having arranged to have food from his favourite restaurant delivered.

"You're such a romantic." Claire teased, giving him a coy wink. Not that she was complaining or anything – she couldn't think of a single girl that would have complained about her guy being _too _romantic.

"And I'm not ashamed of it." He declared impishly, leaning in to plant a long, lingering kiss. She had to admit, she was starting to get used to Peter's lips on hers, but the familiarity of the gesture didn't faze her in the slightest. It felt like home to her – it was where she belonged.

By the time they finished dinner the sun had set, with the clear sky and the pearly glow of the moon providing a picture perfect backdrop. They walked, their hands entwined, back up to the house.

Claire sighed happily. In many ways, today had been the perfect day. "Are you happy?" Peter whispered quietly into her ear, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Very." They were standing just outside the French doors that led into the living room. She halted at the threshold, wrapping her arms around him and drawing him closer to her. "This is …" She smiled bashfully. "I am happy. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me." They were so close now their foreheads touched, reminding her of the many times before they had been this close. But that had been before they had allowed themselves to express what they must have always known to have been there. "I love you. I have a feeling I always will."

His heartfelt confession made her happy – supremely so – because there was no longer a reason for her to hold back how she truly felt about him. That she had always loved Peter Petrelli in some shape or form, whether as her hero, her friend or her perfect other could now be open for all the world to see. Claire didn't need words to express the way she felt. In one perfect, blinding instant she knew that this was definitely who she was meant to be with.

The brush on her lips he gave her tasted of everything that she felt in the core of her being, sweetness, passion and the heat being generated between them coursing through her veins. Kissing Peter was like no other feeling on the face of the planet, it was all satiating the hunger that persistently clung to her, drinking out of a well when her throat was parched, coming in sight of dry land after having been lost at sea.

They clung to each other, their kisses become tighter, more urgent, more heated. Claire allowed her entire body to melt into his, suddenly feeling the burning need to be as close to him as physically possible. He responded in kind, opening his mouth to attack hers, exploring the caverns of her mouth so tantalisingly it made her moan in desire. His hand settled down onto the small of her back, pressing his arousal against her, making her own body respond in kind.

Now that she felt him – really felt him – she was no longer afraid of how things would go. This was what she had always wanted, craved, needed. To be close to Peter like she had never been before, something that would consummate and seal their relationship for all time.

She was barely aware of anything besides the heat of his body pressing against hers, her urgent need to be as one making everything but the two of them melt into a chasm of nothingness. Dimly she felt them do a rather awkward tango through the French doors and into the house; but nothing really mattered but the feel of his lips on hers, his hands grinding into her or her hands running over his lean body, making him groan in desire. She wouldn't have cared whether they were out in the garden or in the car or as their first kiss had been – on a smelly old couch on top of Nathan's campaign headquarters – as long as she was with him.

They danced, twirled and stumbled their way through the maze of furniture, with Peter alternatively swearing into her mouth on colliding into something, or Claire wincing as Peter backed her against a wall with a little more force than intended. It really didn't matter though; between Claire's instant healing and their passionate kissing and exploration of each other's bodies, she doubted they would even notice at this point if one of them caught on fire.

She was sandwiched between the wall and Peter, his body pressed so hard against hers her feet barely touched the ground. Not that she cared, because the next moment she had surrendered herself completely to their heated need, wrapping her slender legs around his waist and willing them to make the final connection.

Because they had been so careful to control their feelings for such a long time, their pent up passion and repressed emotions now flooded out with unnatural force, gushing out in a torrent of fire and excitement. Claire couldn't wait to get those darn clothes off him, clothes that really seemed to be the last in a long line of obstacles they had conquered together. The rhetorical answer to every question that had hung unanswered between them in the last few years of 'we'll cross that bridge when we come to it' – that question would no longer remain unanswered. They were crossing the bridge and nothing in this world could have stopped them.

Peter was moaning, kissing her lips and the crook of her neck and trailing kisses down her shoulders and chest and he just couldn't do anything that would have made Claire not want him more. She had never seen him so abandoned before and she wanted to completely and utterly embraced it. They were both heaving breathlessly as if they were running a very long race, their bodies becoming drenched in sweat.

And they hadn't even had time to get their clothes off yet. His body rocked against hers back and forth with insatiable hunger and it was all she could do to gasp out. "Bedroom –"

Peter muffled the rest of her words with an urgent, fiery kiss. "Can't wait." He managed to gasp, as he grinded against her. "I can't wait that long." They were riding the torrent of passion so heavily now that his garbled words actually made sense to her. He was right, the walk – run, stumble, dance to the bedroom upstairs on the other side of the house was really as insurmountable as saving the world while having these feelings streaming through their veins. The floor in front of the fireplace would have to do.

He suddenly had too many clothes on. She reached down and roughly grabbed his belt, trying to undo it as fast as humanly possible. Peter evidently thought she was taking far too long, releasing her momentarily to quickly yank his belt off. As he was throwing it across the room, Claire busily unzipped his jeans, freeing him completely. Her fingers brushed against him, eliciting a keen moan of pleasure at her first touch.

He grabbed her roughly, flinging her to the floor. The cool slate tiles that had impressed her earlier in the day seemed inconsequential now besides giving her body relief from the heat that they generated as they rubbed against together, the friction from their contact making them in turn more frenzied.

He tugged his jeans off while she quickly divested herself of her top, his hands busily running up and down her body, caressing her thighs, her torso, her chest, her back, all the while looking down at her with hunger in his eyes. His hands seemed to be everywhere, running up and down her body as if he creating a sensory memory, tracing each and every contour as if committing it into his mind.

Their eyes locked in the midst of their embrace, crystal ones against deep, murky pools of tormented desire. "Are you sure?" Peter whispered feverishly and she had to give him a lot of credit for even asking her at this point. His eyes were fiery, flaming and scorching with his desire for her, but he was still enough of a friend to ask whether she really wanted this.

Of course she did. She wanted it so much it hurt and she could barely contain it anymore. Every sinew of her body tingled with desire for him and ached for his touch. She wanted him inside her so much it hurt to breathe just knowing he was there beside her but not within her. "Never been surer. I love you."

He didn't need further encouragement and soon Claire truly knew what it felt like to be so completely lost to another human being. She felt ecstatic, fulfilled and elated at the same time. Not purely because of the physical sensation of his closeness – Niki had warned her that the first time wasn't always the best time – but just having him inside her, her feeling so close to him – the feeling was breathtaking.

They were finally together as she had always wished, hoped, desired to be. It was the culminating moment of their long history together and Claire knew that she would never feel so complete again. They were two halves of the same whole, and they would only be completely whole in the brief moments when they were physically and emotionally joined.

He thrust deeply and feverishly in and out of her, apparently having already given in to whatever animalistic urges he had been holding in check for Claire's sake. For from minding the rough edges of his passion, Claire felt exhilarated by it. In fact, she felt the same way, arching as far into him as she could, running deep scratches down the length of his back and feeling the heat well up inside her as she heard his increasingly strangled gasps of desire and pure, wanton lust for her.

The air was heavy with their increasingly strangled moans, their passion and fervour crescendoeing dramatically until at last they climaxed as one.

Afterwards, as he drew her sweat drenched body against his, he murmured, his breath caressing her ear. "I love you Claire. I love you."

Claire stared, exhausted, up at the ceiling. A smile crept onto her face and she had just enough energy to gasp out. "I love you too Peter."


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

"**Lazarus"**

Waking up to an armful of Claire Bennet, his face buried in her golden hair, could only be described as heaven on earth to Peter.

The rest of the night had involved a lot of acrobatics as they twirled, danced and negotiated their way from the living room to the bedroom, which happened to be located on the other side of the large house. Peter had no idea how they had managed to do it without sustaining serious injury – although technically, even if they had sustained injury he doubted either of them would have noticed since their regeneration would have taken care of anything they sustained. The night was a hazy collection of jumbled passion and fiery feelings coalescing to form one of the most intense experience of Peter's life.

His hold around her smooth shoulders tightened. If Peter had a choice, he would never let her go.

The gentle pressure must have woken her because the next instant she stirred, mumbling something into his chest. Her eyes flickered, realisation dawning on her face. "Hey." He whispered, delighted at the cute half-mewing noises she made. If this was her daily ritual, he really wanted to see it more often. Preferably every day for the rest of his life.

She slowly tilted her face up to gaze at him. "Hey." She brushed golden tendrils out of drowsy eyes and a grin broke out on her tired features. "Some night, huh?"

"You could say that." He drew lazy circles over her chest, making her giggle in response.

"Tickles."

"Good." He traced larger and larger circles with his hands, rubbing against her smooth skin until they reached the sensitive area under her chest. "Nice to know where your sensitive spots are." He smirked.

"I think you found a few last night." She dissolved again into giggles. Peter smiled fondly, realising just how young she still was. He really needed to tread carefully with her. "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

He moved in to give her a kiss but she backed away, covering her mouth. "Morning breath."

"Oh come on." Peter half-wheedled, half-protested. "One kiss."

"No!" Claire squealed and backed further out of Peter's reach, chortling at his look of anguish. "Not until I brush my teeth."

Peter could only half make out what she was saying between her hand over her mouth and his insatiable desire to have her. He slid closer, making her back away some more until they were lying at the furthest edge of the bed. "You're trapped." He noted with satisfaction, moving in for the kill.

"Peter, I'm serious." She squealed again as he caught her in his arms, using his superior strength to draw her to him. Their bodies were melded together and Peter wouldn't have had it any other way. "I've got stinky breath."

"I don't care."

"I do." She pushed him playfully away, frustrating his attentions again. She sure knew how to play hard to get. "In fact, I think we both need to brush our teeth first."

"What's with your obsession over dental hygiene?" Peter was pouting like a school boy but realistically, he had to deploy every weapon at his disposal. "One kiss. Then you can brush your teeth to your dentist's content."

"No." She replied petulantly, pouting her rosy lips for good measure. If that was meant to deter him, he sadly noted that it had completely the opposite effect. They were right on the edge of the bed now and if they moved any closer they would surely tumble off.

"Claire …" Her name came from the back of his throat, more like a growl than anything else. All this effort for one lousy kiss was actually turning him on. He caressed her breasts lightly, noting with satisfaction the way her body responded.

The woman had a will made of titanium though. She backed away but lost her balance just as Peter reached for her. The unfair result was that they both tumbled ungracefully off the bed, somehow rolling over each other so that Peter ended up cushioning Claire's fall.

"Ow." Peter muttered, the fall stinging a bit more than normal due to his nakedness. Plus, he had landed on his butt, which had hurt – quite a bit.

"Serves you right." Claire said smugly, as she lay on top of him. Peter couldn't deny that his position had its unique advantages too, the best of which was that Claire's entire body was now pressed down upon his by gravity.

He smirked, squirming wickedly. "I think I broke a rib."

"Oh please, no one breaks a rib falling off a bed." Claire made a move to get up but Peter locked his arms about her, pinning her tightly against him.

"They do if they had a 120 pound woman falling right on top of them." It was odd; their bickering didn't in any way reflect the arousal of their bodies pressed against each other. Peter was quite tired from his exertions the night before, but the sensation of Claire's skin pressed tightly against his own just made him want to repeat their performances last night over and over again. He wondered whether she was feeling his arousal as keenly as he was.

"I so am _not _120 pounds!" She replied indignantly. Off Peter's look of 'whatever', she whacked him on the chest, right in the middle of his scar. "You take that back."

"Claire." His eyes traced her curves, before he looked up at her in delight. "I don't care how much you're supposed to weigh. Every inch of flesh on you is gorgeous." With that he brought his lips hard against hers, the friction eliciting a groan of pleasure from her.

Their activities were halted by distant ringing. Claire tilted her head up, listening intently. Peter wanted to scream at the interruption. "What's that?"

It took both of them to realise that it was Peter's cell phone ringing insistently where he had last left it. "Shit, it's in my pants." They both glanced automatically down his naked body, Claire appreciating his arousal in the bright light for the first time. "Where did I – ?"

"Downstairs. Where we … you know. The first time." Claire supplied, her eyes still fixed on his form. It was lucky that Peter had gotten a lot more confident about himself the last few years, otherwise he could have been uncomfortable being scrutinised so laviciously as he was at that moment by Claire. Somewhere along the line he had obviously stopped thinking about her as a girl but still, it was slightly disconcerting to see her so … appreciative of certain aspects of him.

"Right." Not bothering to cover himself he walked downstairs, pausing to smirk at her on the way out of the room.

Whoever was ringing better have had a good reason. Peter located his pants which had been thrown against the mantle over the fireplace – it was pretty lucky that they hadn't had a fire going last night – and quickly put them on.

It was Mohinder. "Peter, you and Claire have to get back here, now."

The urgency of his tone caught Peter by surprise. "What … what's happened?"

Mohinder paused, as if to take a breath to calm himself. "It's Sylar. He's alive and he's back. You and Claire have to get back here as soon as you can."

Peter stared out of the French doors, petrified. It was a glorious Sunday morning, filled with all the promise of a new day. But in one horrific instant, he felt everything but terror draining out of him. He had to swallow once, twice, even three times before he could muster enough breath to reply. "We'll be there."

He wasn't terrified at having to face Sylar again, if indeed he had survived the 50 storey fall. The most terrible thing Peter had ever done in his life – that one act that continued to haunt him even after these years – he was terrified that he'd have to repeat it and kill the man he had already killed three years before.

* * *

Claire reacted in a not dissimilar way when Peter gently broke the news to her. One minute she was slumped, terrified against the end of the bed; the next she was scurrying around the room throwing all their belongings haphazardly into their bags, not caring what stuff she threw in which bag. She was muttering incoherently to herself and if Peter had been in a calmer frame of mind, he would have made her take a time out and calm down.

Who was he kidding? He needed a calm presence himself, someone to straighten their panic out. Someone like Nathan. Or Claude – although his mentor tended to be more highly strung than Peter was.

"I think we've got everything. We have to get back home Peter." She looked up at him, her eyes lost and imploring. He had almost forgotten how much she still looked to him for guidance. He picked up the bags and headed to the car, while Claire slung their coats over her arm.

The drive back to New York was eerily quiet. They were both lost in their own thoughts. Peter berated himself inwardly for the way he was not handling this. He should be more together. He should be calmer, more rational, thinking everything through before jumping to the next step. Nathan had told him that he was too impulsive, always leaping before he thought.

Peter had always been proud of that impulsiveness, that readiness to help others. But on that fateful day three years ago, it had almost made him kill millions of people because he had thrown himself headlong into the fight without thought for the consequences.

He was terrified, afraid of what he'd have to do to kill a man that wouldn't stay dead. But there was one fear even more terrible to contemplate, that had always lurked like a phantom at the edge of his vision since his encounter with Sylar.

That darkness in him, a simmering vortex that he had kept in check all these years. He always glimpsed it in his dreams – nightmares really. Dreams of pain and blood, darkness and fire and a kaleidoscope of things he could do with the power he wielded. Fractured reality, pain and the sensation that he was dreaming of the future, a future where Peter Petrelli had turned into the very thing he had had to kill. Full circle, and in a twisted, sadistic way, the whole thing made a tortured kind of sense. To become the very thing he had killed, because he had killed it.

He had told no one about his feelings, his voices – not even Claire. Half the time he couldn't even admit it to himself. He had resisted the temptation to use his borrowed powers even after all this time, not trusting himself to access that seemingly unlimited reservoir without being corrupted by it. Peter sometimes fancied that Claire caught distinct hints of it. In a way he wished she could see through him; he needed someone to rescue him from his fate.

Sylar's core power – his ability to see how things worked – was the only ability Peter hadn't stopped himself from accessing. He used it now almost intuitively like he had been born with it. No matter what he tried he couldn't separate himself from it. The feeling it gave him exhilarated and frightened him with its potency.

He thought he could live with it, put his past behind him. But if Sylar was back and if he was still alive – Peter was going to finally have to face up to it. He would have to fight the temptation to unleash everything inside him and he was terrified that it would be a battle he wasn't going to win.

"Peter?" Claire was looking at him in concern, reaching over to cover his hand in hers. She squeezed it reassuringly. "Are you okay?"

"Sure. Fine." He replied tersely, looking away.

That was the end of all conversation. They drove in tense silence to Nathan's apartment on the Upper West Side, a place Nathan only stayed at when his schedule compelled him to be near his office overnight. He usually preferred to spend the night with his wife and kids.

Everyone had already arrived when they finally got there. It was actually Nathan who opened the door, acknowledging their dishevelled appearance only with a grim greeting. "What took you so long?"

"We got here as fast as we could." Nathan nodded to Claire as he led them to where the others had assembled in the cavernous living room. "I thought you were in Washington for the weekend."

"Flew back this morning. Had to take care of some business." Nathan replied shortly, cutting off conversation between them.

Mohinder and Isaac, who had been talking together, nodded to them in greeting. Hiro and Ando were conferring in hushed tones to the side, Hiro's ever present sword slung across his shoulders. Over the last few years he had learned not to take it with him everywhere he went; it tended to attract strange looks and unwanted attention. But whenever a serious emergency came up – and the current situation certainly fitted the bill – it came out again.

Claire's eyes caught the gleam of the sword hilt under the bright lights, no doubt thinking of the last and only time she had had to use it. Her eyes involuntary flicked to Peter, who abruptly glanced away.

Nathan's flat screen television showed Matt and Audrey talking patiently with Niki and DL. DL had been holding onto Niki but upon seeing them, he released her. Niki came to give Claire a hug. "How was your trip honey?"

Claire smiled at the other woman gratefully. Peter kicked himself for being so insensitive – during the turmoil of the last few hours, he had forgotten that last night probably meant as much to Claire as to him, but with added significance. She had hinted more than a few times that last night would have been the first time for her. He reached out, more to reassure her that the tense silence had nothing to do with what happened last night but she expertly danced out of his reach, striding forward to meet the others. She was so good at that – pretending like nothing ever bothered her. But Peter always knew the truth, and he knew that it did bother her now.

Claire smiled, but the expression was too bright. "It was good. I'll tell you about it later."

Niki was a woman enough to read between the lines and her eyes immediately flickered over to Peter. Although Niki had gained sufficient control over Jessica over the last few years, he wouldn't put it past her to unleash her on anyone that hurt the ones she loved – which incidentally included Claire. And Jessica was a lot less rational and much more angry than the understanding and patient Niki. Peter backed away, making a mental note to have a serious discussion with Niki if time permitted to clear the air.

"Okay, what the hell's going on here? Sylar's still alive? How can that even be possible?" Nathan's years spent as a Congressman had honed his natural ability to cut through the mess.

They looked blankly at each other. Finally Mohinder hazarded a guess. "Well … he obviously must have survived the fall. It could have seriously injured him, but –"

"He fell off a 50 storey building! People – human beings – just don't recover and walk away from that!"

"Can someone get me back into the loop?" Audrey demanded. "How do we even know that Sylar's still alive?"

"We got word – the facility where Sylar had been kept – it exploded a few hours ago."

Mohinder replied, glancing at Claire. "Your father told us."

"When?"

"He only found out his organisation had been keeping Sylar alive all these years. They'd kept it from him because they knew how he felt about Sylar."

"Why would they keep that from him? He works for them."

"Probably because he wants Sylar dead as much as the rest of us." Niki noted dryly, cracking her knuckles dangerously. "After what that bastard put me though, I'm ready for payback."

"Before we get into payback, we have to work out what we're going to do." Peter finally stepped in.

"I have to see him." Claire declared abruptly, rushing to Hiro. "I have to see my dad."

Hiro glanced at Peter, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. It would be useless trying to prevent her from going to Texas and he knew that if Hiro refused to teleport her she would just hop onto the next plane anyway. Trying to talk her out of it would have been folly.

"Claire." He called out to her, oblivious to the others in the room. "Be careful. He might still be there."

She had astutely avoided him since exchanging their last words in the car, but now she succumbed and allowed him to embrace her tightly. Peter held on to her slightly shaking form, realising for the first time how much she was really holding in for the sake of appearance. "I love you." He whispered into her ear, barely audible even to her.

"Me too." It was partly muffled because she had buried her face into his chest. They parted, and Hiro soon teleported Claire out of the room.

"I'll never get used to seeing that." Nathan observed dryly, trying to bring some levity into the room. "Between his sword and the waffles and the comic books, it's hard to tell what he's going to do next."

They quickly got back to the matter at hand. As far as Mohinder had been able to surmise, the clandestine organisation that Claire's father worked for had somehow retrieved Sylar after his fight with Peter. It was strange to hear it described that way; Peter still thought of that act as murder. Was it murder if the man you had killed hadn't died after all?

"Sylar would've been too wounded to resist capture; most likely he was actually dead or close to death. From Peter's account, Sylar was about to explode. He'd absorbed too much of Ted Sprague's power. As we know …" He, as well as the others, looked at Peter. "Only something like death would have stopped Sylar from exploding that day."

"So you think he was dead? And they somehow revived him?" Matt murmured.

Mohinder nodded. "I think it is the most likely explanation for why Sylar didn't explode that day. He was probably dead, then revived. Without natural regenerative powers, even for someone like him an experience like that would have taken weeks, maybe even months to recover from."

"So what've they been doing with him all this time?" Audrey asked. "If these Primatech guys had Sylar for three years, why break out now? Supposing he'd taken a few months to recover, that still doesn't explain why he chose to make his move now."

Mohinder shrugged. "I have as much idea as the rest of you. After Claire's father called, he was going to get back to me on any other information he could find." Everyone looked at him expectantly.

"And?" Audrey asked pointedly, voicing what was going on in everyone's minds.

"He … hasn't gotten back to me yet. Hopefully Claire and Hiro will be able to find out something."

"Great." Nathan muttered, glancing at his watch impatiently. "I've already had to postpone a meeting with my staff twice today. What's the guess on how long this thing's going to take?" Peter had to hand it to his brother. Nathan managed to make a potentially major catastrophe sound like a minor hindrance. "Don't look at me like that, I've got a district to run."

"There's more." Isaac intoned quietly. "I brought some of my latest paintings. They're … not encouraging." Nodding at Ando, they left the room to return a moment later, each laden with an armful of canvasses.

Peter stared, perplexed as Isaac and Ando lined them up in order. Over the last few years, Isaac had gotten better at deciphering the sequence of events from his paintings which had helped them enormously. It had been a lot better than playing a deadly guessing game with their lives.

There were six panels in all. The first canvas showed Sylar – or someone like him – calmly strolling away from a burning warehouse. The second apparently showed Peter, Claire and Sylar standing and talking in the same room, which could not have been right. The third showed Hiro, Ando and Mohinder looking scared at something to the right hand side. Hiro had his sword out as if defending the others, their unique symbol prominent in the foreground. The fourth canvas showed Niki, DL and Nathan defending three small boys; Nathan started at that because it suggested that their children would somehow come under attack. The fifth apparently showed Sylar shooting fireballs at someone in the distance. The sixth and last canvas showed Isaac dead, the top of his head sliced open and his brain gone.

Predictably, it was the last canvas that had all of them in shock. Peter and the others looked at Isaac in disbelief at the calmness with which he was apparently accepting his fate. "I don't think this can be right." DL muttered.

"My paintings haven't been wrong before. The order could be slightly out, but they're never wrong." Isaac replied quietly, a steely glint in his eye. "It's okay, I'm ready for it if it happens. Anyway, there are many ways to interpret my paintings." Peter secretly didn't think that it left much room for interpretation. It was straight out of Sylar's how to be a telekinetic serial killer handbook that he could no doubt have authored given the time.

"In any case." Isaac seemed eager to not dwell on his imminent death, not that Peter blamed him. In a strange way, he was probably the only one that could have understood Isaac's position – he had lived through a few tortuous weeks of thinking he was going to explode and bring down half of New York along with him. "This at least gives us something to go on. I think it's safe to say that the first painting has probably already occurred."

They all nodded. They just had to work out what the rest of the paintings meant and hopefully they would be able to prevent the imminent death of one of their own.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven **

"**Redemption"**

When Claire and Hiro teleported into the Bennet home, they were shocked by the scene that confronted them.

The entire place had almost been levelled, the ruins of her once time home smoking and charred in the afternoon light. Claire couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her mind reeled from the senseless and wanton destruction, the ties to her treasured childhood ripped cruelly away in a single moment.

Hiro looked almost as devastated as she was. He glanced at her shattered features, and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm so sorry Claire."

"What happened?" She mumbled to herself as much as to him. She stumbled and climbed over the remnants of the staircase, lying broken and splintered amidst the ruins until she came to where the front door had been.

Hiro followed swiftly, gazing past her at the mass of fire fighters and police that were still milling about the house. One of the officers caught them standing in the middle of the rubble and shouted. "Hey!"

They were quickly and firmly led outside the cordoned off area. "This is my house." Claire said dumbly to the officer, not even needing to feign shock and disbelief.

"You're Claire Bennet?" The tall man asked not unkindly. Claire nodded, still in shock. Hiro stepped in to explain.

"We … just came from New York." He neglected to mention just now they came. "To visit her father."

"And you are?"

"Claire's friend."

"And your connection to the family would be …?"

Hiro didn't look like he understood the question. "I'm Claire's friend." He said simply. "She needed some company to return to Texas."

"Where's my family, where's everyone?" Claire interrupted anxiously. "My mom? What about Lyle and dad?"

The officer looked distinctly uncomfortable, even pained. He looked around at the curious crowd of Claire's former neighbours, leading Claire to a shaded area where their tall pines had used to frame the front lawn. "Your father's been taken to hospital in a critical condition." He took a deep breath, steeling himself. "I'm sorry Miss Bennet. We found two bodies in the wreckage. One's been identified as a teenage boy, the other looks like … a woman."

"No." Her breath came in harsh gasps. "No, that's … not right." Tears stung her eyes before starting to stream down her face. "You're wrong, that's not … that can't … mom and Lyle never did anything to anyone, that can't be right! You're wrong." Claire screeched at him, drawing the attention of her neighbours nearby. "You're wrong, they can't be – oh my god." Claire let out a heart rending scream of pain, agony and torment then, the weight of the realisation making her sink to the ground.

Hiro and the officer looked on in anguish but Claire didn't heed them. She had entered her own personal hell and there was nothing she could have done to stop it. Despite having the power to regenerate, despite everything – she had been powerless to stop Sylar taking the ultimate revenge on her family. What was worse, she hadn't been there to share their fate because she had been self-centred, staying in New York with Peter and his family. Because of that she had lived and they – well, they were dead.

Claire continued to sob. She was to blame. Her unique abilities were why Sylar had been drawn to her in the first place. She had unique abilities and what had she done with them? Lived a charmed life with Peter and her friends in New York, while this had happened to two people who had done absolutely nothing to incur this tormented end.

Dimly, she became aware that Hiro was trying to help her off the ground. She shrugged his gentle hands off angrily, demanding harshly of the officer. "Where's my father?"

"He's at Odessa General." The officer replied kindly which inexplicably incensed Claire all the more. She didn't need his or anyone's pity. What she needed was revenge against Sylar.

Before Hiro could do anything, Claire stormed off. She couldn't care less how she got there, but nothing was going to stop her from seeing how her father was faring.

Hiro caught up to her, grabbing her arm. "Let me." He held out his hand, arresting Claire's anger in one swift, kind gesture. "It'll be faster."

Claire allowed him to transport them to the hospital. Without bothering to thank Hiro, she raced past the waiting room and marched straight to the front desk demanding to know where her father was. Soon Claire was storming down the hallway, with Hiro racing to keep up with the streak of blonde.

"Dad." Seeing her father lying fragile and crumpled, wires and tubing running haphazardly from his body, made her tears start afresh. She rushed to him, in that instant forgetting why she had ceased to trust him.

Her cry jolted him awake and he was soon stroking her hair as he had used to when she was younger, albeit now with some considerable pain. "Claire-bear." He grunted, speaking with difficulty. "I'm so glad you're safe."

She buried her face in his chest, careful to not put too much pressure on his ribs. Seeing their tearful reunion, Hiro excused himself respectfully from the room. Claire smiled back at him gratefully. "I'm so sorry Dad."

He grunted. "Mom and Lyle?" She shook her head through her tears, unable to even think it, let alone say it. He understood though, and the pain that shot through his eyes was a million times worse that anything she had ever seen. It was as if a part of his spirit, his essence, shrivelled with the realisation that his family was gone. "Then I'm glad you're safe." He managed to squeeze out before he broke down completely, sobbing brokenly into her hair. They clung to each other, acutely aware that they were the only survivors of the once happy Bennet family.

Seeing him – a man so strong, silent and self-assured, break into tears let her know precisely how much her world had been destroyed around her.

After a while his tears subsided and he said softly. "There's some things you have to know Claire." She shook her head stubbornly, knowing that he was about to tell her stuff that would compel her to action. She didn't want that responsibility, not yet. She wanted to remain the little girl she had once been in his arms and forget the last few years had ever happened. "I have to tell you so you can tell the others. They have to know … what I know."

Only the knowledge that he was desperate to tell her something compelled her to listen. "I discovered Sylar was being kept by at a secret facility. He was … experimented on. Kept alive and revived constantly – I don't know how. Maybe it was the development of his abilities, I don't know. They never told me because they knew how much I'd wanted him dead."

"How did you –"

He cut her off gently. "That's not important. What's important is that he escaped yesterday, setting off an explosion that killed almost everyone in the building. From … what I can gather." He had to pause to wheeze and take a breath. "He's changed, Claire. They experimented on him, enhanced his abilities. He's more dangerous now than he ever was."

"They _enhanced _him?" Claire asked in disbelief. "Why would they do that?"

"To see how far they could develop. To see how far a human being could go beyond our current … evolutionary status." He coughed, his breathing loud and uneven. Claire glanced at the monitors on the side of his bed which were beeping erratically.

"Dad are you all right?"

He nodded and was about to speak before suddenly seizing. The monitors screeched with urgency now and before long nurses and doctors burst into the room, shuffling her not unkindly out of the room.

She looked through the glass at the frenetic activity, realising the possibility that she could be witnessing her father die. Hiro stood by her and for the first time that day she was grateful for his compassionate presence.

At long last the activity stopped. A tall, lean doctor came out, his eyes tired and searching. "I'm sorry Miss Bennet." The doctor looked kindly down at her. "But your father's gone into a coma. With the extent of his injuries … it's unlikely he'll ever come out of it."

Claire's knees buckled for the second time that day and she would have fallen if not for Hiro catching her. Her mind went blank with the realisation that in a blink of an eye, her entire family had been lost, disintegrating in a cloud of smoke and ash.

* * *

As soon as Hiro teleported her back to Nathan's apartment, Claire threw herself into Peter's arms, unable to hold back her tears. Peter looked down at her golden form, astonished, before wrapping his arms around her, eyes searching for answers. He shot a warning look to the others as he roughly scooped her up and carried her to Nathan's bedroom.

Peter gently deposited her on Nathan's bed, sliding next to her to cradle her in his arms. She clung to him, her hysterical sobs simmering down to broken ones. She knew that seeing her this clearly in pain with no idea of what had happened must have been difficult, but she couldn't explain. Not just yet.

At long last – and if Claire was asked she couldn't have said exactly how long that was – her anguished sobs finally subsided into silence. Her steely hold on him, the harsh tugging of her flesh on his, was the only thing she knew for sure at that moment. Her life had been shattered to a million pieces and he was the only thing she had left.

"Claire." His breath on her face was warm, inviting, alive. "What happened?"

She brokenly told him what she had found in Odessa and what her father had told her about Sylar. When she finished, there was absolute silence. His lack of reaction unsettled her. "Peter?"

It was the only thing that could have brought her out of her lethargy. She looked up only to find his eyes flinty, dark and dangerous. For once, they were totally unreadable. "Peter." She repeated, more anxiously this time. "Are you –"

"I'm so sorry you had to see that." The clenching of his jaw was the only sign of his anger. "I should have been there. I should – "

"But you weren't. We weren't." She amended. Claire didn't want to do anything besides hang on to him for dear life, but she couldn't. There was a gentle tap on the door which turned out to be Nathan of all people, checking to see how Claire was doing.

Hiro had obviously filled the others in on what had happened. Knowing that the others knew somehow compelled her into action. She couldn't hide and bury her face in the sand like a frightened girl any longer. Sylar was out there again, capable of destroying whole families like he had just done to hers and it was up to her and the others to stop him.

Claire wiped the remains of her tears away and sat up slowly. Peter's continued grip around her warmed and strengthened her, letting her know that whatever action they ended up taking, Peter would be right by her side.

Nathan smiled grimly. His unusually sensitive behaviour let her know just how serious he thought her situation was. "I have something I can't put off. The others are leaving, Mohinder's going to try to find some more leads we can use." Peter and Claire stared mutely at him. "You guys are welcome to stay, Peter knows where the keys are."

"Thanks Nathan." Claire's voice sounded thin and worn even to herself, a testament to how much the day had taken out of her. His kindness was typical of her almost older brother, a testament that deep down, Nathan was as kind hearted and caring as Peter was.

Peter didn't urge her to react or do anything. But Claire needed to do or feel something so badly at the moment. It would let her know that she was still alive.

Her arms tightened around Peter. She tilted her head up, her face still streaked with tears. Peter looked down at her quizzically but before he could say anything, her lips smashed against his. Claire couldn't – didn't rather – want to restrain the gnawing hunger that bubbled inside her to feel something, anything, to let her know that she was safe.

Peter was the safest thing in this world to her. She needed and craved him at this second, and she couldn't have cared less how frantic she appeared. If he was taken aback by her sudden need, he wasn't put off by it. He allowed her to grab him roughly, pulling him against her on the bed as their bodies rocked against each other in insatiable need. She hurriedly stripped off her clothing, first her top which she flung over the side of the bed and then her jeans, feeling a rush of excitement as his hands took her panties off, one hand rubbing against her heat while the other cupping and massaging her breasts.

She just as quickly unzipped his jeans, ripping them off with Peter's help before grabbing him in her hands. He groaned at the contact, his hands struggling to undo the buttons on own his shirt. Claire could have helped him but chose instead to stroke him frenetically – not all that expertly, but she didn't hear him complaining – and with each stroke and rocking of their bodies rhythmically against each other, she felt him thrusting into her hand, bucking at her touch.

Claire wasn't usually an impatient a person. But feeling him in her hands, she couldn't wait to have him inside her. She needed, craved, wanted it so badly. She needed him now at this moment to let her know that everything was all right, to let her know she could still feel. "Oh god, Claire …" He moaned and it felt like he was losing control, his crescendoing excitement and fervour fuelling hers in turn.

She needed him to lose control. She needed him to want her, desire her, love her. He seemed to sense – empathise – with her urgency. He abruptly flipped them over so that his body now pressed hard against hers and with one smooth stroke, roughly entered her.

Unlike the first time, Claire was no longer held back by her inhibitions or lack of experience and because of the urgency, there was no need for Peter to treat her like she was made of glass. Everything she had worried about only last night seemed strange and distant to her, things that hardly mattered. What mattered was that Peter was here with her, wanting her, needing her as much as she needed him. It was what fuelled their passion, their excitement as they rocked in frenetic dance together, their bodies pulsating as one. The excitement and intensity rocked them higher and higher until Claire realised through the haze that they were both screaming aloud in pleasure, urgency and desire culminating in an escalating climax of absolute ecstasy.

Afterwards, when her heart had finally stropped pounding against her ribcage and their breathing had slowed to a somewhat sedate level, he was content to stay with her. She was grateful to him for that. They lay in silence for what seemed an eternity until the visibly lengthening shadows descended and left them in perfect darkness.

"I'm ready to go home now." Even through his steady breathing she knew he was still awake, thinking deeply like she had been. "I mean, to the dorm."

He nodded and she could almost hear his pained smile in the darkness. What was it about Peter that she connected with so well? "I'll take you there." He rasped, not having used his voice in a while. "I've still got Nathan's car and I'm not leaving you out of my sight."

Far from being annoyed by his protectiveness, Claire just felt grateful and responded by giving him a deliberate kiss. "Thank you." She said softly, sniffling and leaving it at that. He would know what she was thanking him for.

He drove her right to her dorm, parking illegally outside the front entrance. Peter was usually very good at following the rules but it wasn't a priority right now. They trudged up to her room wearily, fatigue and emotional exhaustion plaguing her every step of the way.

Claire couldn't help it – she couldn't stop the images that replayed like a broken film inside her head. Her mother and brother dead, charred and burned to a crisp and her father – someone who she had loathed but loved – possibly to follow. If Sylar had been standing in front of her now, there was no telling how much damage she would do to him.

She was so worn out it took her a while to find her keys and open the door. Peter rested his head on her shoulders from her, his arms coming around her waist to hold her tight.

She let them in. The only thing on Claire's mind was going straight to her bed and fall into a dreamless sleep, preferably with Peter by her side. She would be okay if she could escape from reality for a while, breathe back some semblance of sense into her life.

But a frightened gasp to their side arrested their attention. Claire and Peter both turned, stunned.

Sylar was standing in the corner of the room. His hands were poised around Lori's neck, looking capable of snapping it off in the blink of an eye.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight **

"**Friends and Enemies"**

There was a thick moment of stunned silence. Peter stared in disbelief at Sylar firmly holding Lori hostage. The stuff of his and probably Claire's nightmares was standing right in front of them, and all he they could do was gape like a deer caught in headlights.

There was a muffled scream and shuffling from behind him. If Peter's reflexes hadn't been fast enough to catch Claire as she launched herself at Sylar shrieking bloody vengeance there was no guessing what could have happened or who would have been hurt. As it was, Peter was able to deftly catch her in his arms, smothering her repeated attempts to kill Sylar with her bare hands. Between her heedless rage, keeping a watchful eye on Sylar out of the corner of his eye and the feeling of his blood beginning to simmer and boil through his veins at all the damage Sylar had inflicted on so many people, Peter felt like he was being pulled apart at the seams.

The man was eerily motionless, not fazed by Claire's raw rage. Seeing him so calm and imperious and thinking of what he had only recently put Claire through, Peter wanted to – really wanted to – kill him right there, making his head explode with the force of a thousand atomic bombs. And he knew that deep down, he was capable of it. Only the life of Claire's roommate and the overarching need to prevent Claire from effectively committing suicide held his own psychotic frenzy in check. Everything seemed to be coated with a thin film of red.

"Let me go!" Claire screamed again and again, frustrated by the ease with which Peter used his body to hold hers in check. Her arms flailed wildly and in their struggle she scratched and punched him repeatedly. Peter didn't even know whether she was aware of what she was doing; at that moment she was a being of anger and fury.

And through it all Sylar stood, unfazed. He was so unfazed, he looked like he was waiting for the bus to commute to work.

Peter's entire body shook with the effort of keeping himself rooted to the spot as well as preventing Claire from losing her mind. He knew if he moved even a muscle in Sylar's direction, Lori's life would be lost in the most gruesome way imaginable.

He didn't know how long Claire continued to struggle or how long he ached to see Sylar's blood spilled by his own hand. But at last her efforts subsided, and the silent tears streaming down her face were the only evidence of her epic struggle of emotions. By that time the damage she had inflicted on Peter had completely healed.

"Please." Sylar surprised Peter with his temerity. "I'm not here to hurt anyone."

If anyone had asked Peter to list the five most unlikely things Sylar would ever say, that would have easily been one of them. Peter blinked a few times, unsure and wary of what he had just heard.

"You don't want to hurt anyone?" Claire was back to screaming again. Peter knew first hand from living in a cramped residence hall that sound carried very easily between rooms and he didn't want anyone else bursting in. The more people Sylar came in contact with, the more people that would be in danger. He grew pale just thinking about the massacre Sylar was capable of causing if pushed too far. "I think it's a little bit too late for that." Claire spat, throwing him a look of vilest hate. "You killed my entire family and you're not going to hurt anyone? You killed Simone, you almost killed Niki and DL and Audrey and _you're not doing to hurt anyone now_?!"

"Please." Sylar repeated, slowly loosening his grip on Lori. The frightened blonde's eyes skittered nervously, clearly traumatised by her experience. "I'm going to let this one go." His eyes, murky, dark and foreboding, met Peter's. "I need to talk to you Peter."

Words couldn't form in his mind. He simply couldn't process the fact that Sylar wanted to talk. To _talk_. He suppressed an urge to laugh hysterically at the very idea. His mind kept substituting talk for kill, or murder horribly. His throat was suddenly very dry. "Just let her go." Peter held the gaze, aware that it was some subtle test of strength. "If you … want us to talk. You need to let Lori go."

A smile crept onto the corner of Sylar's mouth, and he looked down at the shaking figure he held in his arms. "Lori, huh? That's a pretty name."

"Stay the _hell _away from her." Claire appeared to have regained control of herself, her voice now furiously cold.

"You know I could've killed her any time." The smile dropped off Sylar's face. "I can kill her without even touching her. And do you know what the best thing would be?" Peter had to admire Claire, who was unflinchingly meeting Sylar's gaze. "You'll get to watch another one of your friends die because of you."

In the split second afterwards, Claire's features ignited with fury and he knew that she would lose control if he didn't do something quickly. He stepped adroitly in front of Claire, shielding her from Sylar. "If you want to talk." Peter gritted. "You have to let Lori go."

Sylar nodded. The next moment there was a screaming streak of blonde as Lori flew past them, sobbing hysterically as she ran. On her way out of the room, Claire tried to comfort her but she was roughly shoved aside on Lori's dash to freedom.

"Excitable girl." Sylar noted dryly, before fixing his gaze on Peter and Claire. "I have a feeling we're about to be disturbed. I need to talk to you." The stress on his words was unmistakeable, completely mystifying Peter. He obviously had an end game, seeing as how Peter was responsible for almost killing him the last time they met – but he didn't understand the ruse.

It was an alien sensation. For the past three years – ever since he'd 'killed' Sylar – he'd been able to harness and utilise Sylar's ability to perceive how things worked. Above everything else, he'd used it to understand complicated structures, relationships, people. But this – he couldn't understand, he couldn't see – how Sylar worked. And it profoundly disturbed him.

"Peter, we need to talk. There are some things you need to know." Sylar remained curiously neutral against their projected rage.

Peter hesitatation concerned Claire enough for her to pull him roughly aside. She hissed into his ear. "Tell me you aren't seriously contemplating going with him? Tell me you aren't that stupid Peter."

"Claire, he's right. He could've killed Lori any time she was in the room."

"I don't care. This guy murdered a lot of people – murdered Simone. Jackie. My mom and brother. Now he wants to grab a latte with you? There's nothing he could say that could possibly make up for any of that."

"I know what he's done, okay? And I know what I've done." Peter suddenly exploded, furious. Realising what he'd just said, he took a deep breath, glancing over to make sure Sylar hadn't moved. "I don't think so." He grabbed her roughly with both hands, looking deep into her eyes. "I think there's more going on here." He paused, then echoed her words from so long ago, when they had jumped off a building together running from her father. "Do you trust me, Claire?"

There was a pregnant pause. Peter knew how much he was asking of her, how much she would be risking. It was strange to think that his first instinct hadn't been to shield her from Sylar. It hadn't been to shove her aside, tell her to go home and run as fast and as far as she could away from this place. It had been to assure her that he would be there, to trust him as she went along for the ride. When had he stopped thinking of them as two separate people?

"I trust you." She whispered, looking up at him with eyes swimming with feeling.

Peter kept a firm, sane grip on Claire's hand as he turned to face the man he had once killed. He wondered when the world would start making sense again. "We're listening."

* * *

If Peter's pacing was any indication of his anxiety, it was an understated one. He couldn't believe he and Claire were doing this.  
They were standing face to face with Sylar, calmly, sedately, looking on while a psychotic murderer lounged indolently against a wall in a disused warehouse. His languid movements reminded Peter of a cockroach, crawling and festering in the dank places of the earth. 

If anyone could see through Peter's nervousness, it was Claire. His eyes met hers, illuminated by the street lights as they contemplated him with feverish anxiety. She was worried and it showed.

The less time they spent in Sylar's company, the better. And the less time that Peter had to exert control over his rampaging desire to rip this guy limb from limb. "Okay, we're listening. Now talk or we're gone." Peter was impressed at how strong his voice sounded.

Sylar took a second longer to stare, his eyes glinting malevolently in the dim light. "Relax Peter, you know it's not my style to talk my prey to death. I'm here for a reason, after that I'm gone. You and your … cheerleader." He glanced laviciously at Claire, who shuddered imperceptibly. "Can do whatever you want after that." Claire rolled her eyes, which Sylar bizarrely took as his cue. "I came to warn you. All of you."

Peter would have snorted in a less charged situation. "Warn us? About what? You? I think it's a bit too late for that."

"Well, obviously. No." Almost as if to show that he had no intention of hurting them, he plucked a chair from the piles of abandoned furniture in the corner of the large, cavernous space. After making sure it was secure enough, he sat down, the noise echoing eerily. "Aren't you even the least bit curious how I'm still alive after you killed me, Peter?

Peter really wished he'd stop calling him by his name. Like they could ever be on a first name basis. "Not really."

Sylar shrugged. "I've been locked inside a research facility." His eyes suddenly darkened and coloured with pain. "There are people more dangerous than I am." The way he spoke, his intensity, compelled their attention despite the source. "I was experimented on. Damaged, injected … brought back to life, over and over again. I died and was reborn. It was … extremely painful. I wouldn't recommend the experience." He closed his eyes briefly. Despite himself, Peter's eyebrows shot skywards in disbelief. Sylar was talking about his experience like he was recounting a pleasant stroll through Central Park, not being tortured to death then brought back to life.

"How did they bring you back?" Claire asked insightfully. Peter's eyes narrowed. It was an odd thing to focus on. "How were they able to bring you back after they killed you?"

"Smart girl. I always knew your brain was good for something besides regeneration." If his scrutiny intimidated her, she didn't show it. Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Your father told you something. He came and tried to see me. Before I escaped."

Claire rushed forward, her full blown anger enough to make Sylar instinctively leap off the chair. Once again, Peter was just quick enough to hold her back. "What did you do to him?" She screamed. "Why did you kill my family?"

"I didn't, that's part of what I came here to tell you." His denial was the last thing either Peter or Claire expected and Sylar took advantage of their surprise. "You have to believe me, I haven't killed anyone since … I didn't kill them. _They _did."

"Who's they?"

"The people who held me. They're developing people – breeding us – isolating strands of DNA that give rise to special abilities and infusing cloned embryos with them." He finished with disgust. "They've already isolated yours." He looked pointedly at Claire. "That's how they revived me. They used your DNA to develop something that regenerates people's tissues, reanimates them even when they're dead."

"How could you even know that?" Peter was unwilling to trust him. Even discounting the blood still boiling through his veins, there were a lot of things about Sylar's story that didn't make sense. "If you were held – like you say you were – how could you even know ...?" He didn't have to finish the sentence. Unwittingly, he was using his telepathy to reach into Sylar's mind. "They enhanced your abilities?" He asked in disbelief, his voice rising an octave. "They enhanced your abilities and you could hear … you heard them discussing the results."

"_And there's more." _Sylar said silently, staring intensely at Peter. _"They succeeded." _

"What do you mean, they succeeded?" Peter burst out, not wanting to shut Claire out. "Succeeded with what?"

Sylar sighed in exasperation. "Are you always this stupid? They succeeded with breeding – developing – people with superpowers. Five of them. Each with multiple powers – telekinesis, radioactivity, ability to read minds. Gravity control, lightening. Water, fire, ice. They used me and people like me as a prototype, isolating our genes. They use us in any way imaginable, including killing us if it suited them. Now do you see why we should be worried?"

Peter couldn't believe he was having a conversation about this with Sylar of all people. What was worse, he was actually starting to make sense. Peter's world was unravelling, fast. "Five of them? How did they … there's no way they could've developed people this quickly. They don't grow in pods for Christ's sakes."

"What you don't seem to get Peter, is that these people have been at this for a very long time." Sylar gritted. "They've found ways to draw abilities out of people. Blend their DNA with others. They don't _need _to clone people. They just take normal people with latent abilities and bring them out, then mutate them to get the desired result. It's what they've been aiming for all along."

Claire stepped in front of him. She had swallowed enough of her fear to join in. "Why? Why are you here?"

"I want to help, why else?" Sylar smirked unpleasantly, making Peter want to kill him slowly with an ice pick. "They killed me, over and over. Brought me back." He relaxed enough to sit down again, not caring that Peter and Claire still stood ramrod straight, casting wary eyes at him. "You have no idea how much pain I've been in. It hurt like hell." He paused for dramatic effect adding softly, almost wondrously. "But they didn't count on one thing."

"That you're a murderer?" Claire spat out, drawing near Peter. "You murdered people just like you murdered my family?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, I _didn't kill _your family?!" He roared, his voice becoming deeper, more menacing. It was the first time Sylar had lost his patience. Peter backed away, careful to keep Claire behind him. Seeing their fear, Sylar simmered down. "I'm sorry." He gasped, casting a meaningful glance at Peter. The words he heard were crystal clear in the silence of his mind. _"They didn't count on one thing Peter. They cured me."_

"Stop it!" Now it was Peter's turn to roar. He felt dirty, violated. "Get the hell out of my head!"

"I wasn't in your head. You were in mine." Sylar held his hands up in surrender. "They cured me Peter. They cured me and gave me back my sanity." Claire's lips curled. She obviously wasn't buying the story. "They killed me so many times, it was like … everything drained out of my brain each time, like poison being leeched out." He took a deep breath. "Sylar drained out of me. I'm not him anymore." He whispered calmly. "I'm Gabriel again. Gabriel Gray."

Peter closed his eyes, using his other senses to probe deeper into the other man's thoughts. He saw both with his own empathy and Matt's ability that the other man actually believed what he was saying. Sylar – or Gabriel or whoever he wanted to be – didn't intend to kill either of them tonight. In fact, Peter couldn't see anything in Sylar's heart or mind that reeked of anything but the need to revenge himself on those who had tortured him so brutally.

Peter felt nauseous, dizzy. His world was turning upside down and nothing made sense anymore. The man he had killed was standing in front of him, telling him about a vast conspiracy that threatened the safety of everyone he cared about. What did he expect Peter to do?

His mind was suddenly flooded with thoughts and feelings from both Sylar and Claire. The cogent mix – one of seething revenge, the other of petrified anger – almost made him keel over. His brain hurt; he could feel other things flooding into him all at once. All the powers he had kept at bay for the past three years were threatening to breach those internal walls he and Claude had so patiently set up; if he didn't get a grip on himself, all their hard work could all be undone in a single night.

It was all Peter could do to not lose consciousness. He had to focus on something, anything. So he anchored himself to Claire's voice. "I hardly think changing your name's going to fix everything. You killed people!" Claire's screams echoed in the empty stillness around them.

"That's right. There's nothing I can do about that. But there's something I _can _do about this. Don't worry, I haven't come to join the team." He seethed. "I just want these bastards put through as much pain as I've been put through." Through the haze, Peter could see Sylar's fists clench. He sensed that the other man, despite his calm exterior, was close to breaking point. He had to stop Claire from goading him before it was too late.

He made a movement towards her but suddenly Sylar jerked his head up. He put a finger to his lips, motioning for silence. Peter could hear it too – hear the thoughts of two, no three, people just outside the door. They were poised and ready for a fight.

Claire glanced first at Sylar then at Peter, aware that the other two were sensing something she couldn't. She drew close to Peter who quietly motioned her behind him.

Several seconds ticked by in absolute stillness, Peter blinking sweat out of his eyes, before Sylar uttered calmly before throwing himself to the ground. "Duck." Without pausing to think on the appropriateness of listening to Sylar – a known homicidal lunatic – Peter spun and grabbed Claire, forcing them both to the ground.

And not a millisecond too soon. A bolt of lightening was hurled into the room, blasting the door they had been standing in front of off its hinges. Two or three bursts of fire quickly followed as three black clad figures ran in. Through the smoke and haze, Peter, Claire and Sylar quickly got up to meet their attackers head on.

It was strange to find themselves standing with Sylar against figures of a shady conspiracy that threatened to destroy their world. It was stranger to think that it was a world where Peter and Claire were joined by Sylar in a fight to the death.

"We'll take one each." Sylar muttered, his eyes glinting dangerously in the light of the fires igniting around them.

"Like hell." Peter gritted, not willing to put Claire in any more danger than she already was in. But Sylar had already rushed off towards the largest figure, his bulky frame not quite able to be hidden beneath his black attire. It wasn't just chivalry that was behind Peter's protectiveness, it was also pragmatism. Both he and Sylar had multiple powers but Claire's only ability was regeneration. He and Claude had talked often of the nature of their abilities, concluding that certain powers were purely defensive. Claire happened to have one of those purely defensive powers and he wasn't willing to throw her in the middle of a fight where their utility would be diminished.

Unfazed, Claire grabbed a rebar lying at her feet as a weapon, ready to meet the oncoming attacker. Her eyes shone with anticipation as the smaller of the three hooded figures rushed for her, bolts of lightening appearing to shoot straight from her arms and into Claire. Claire grunted as the lightening surged into her but it barely slowed her down. She closed the gap and with one broad stroke, knocked out her assailant's knee caps and slamming her painfully onto the floor.

Peter wanted to help Claire but he was lifted bodily up and hurled heavily against the far wall of the room. He was able to stop himself just in time from colliding with the wall face first, spinning around in mid-air. He landed on the concrete floor, crouched and reading to fight. He looked up only to find his attacker standing five feet away, grinning at the look of astonishment on Peter's face.

These people were clearly the ones Sylar had warned them about. People with abilities just like them but having no other goal than to destroy or capture them at any cost.

Peter pressed himself off the ground, sweating with the effort. If this wasn't a good time to access his entire selection of abilities, he didn't know what was. He squinted, just making out the man that had thrown him to the ground through the haze. He concentrated, imagining a vault opening, and immediately orbs of fire flamed into life in his hands. He didn't hesitate and threw them at his attacker. The other man was ready however, using the large number of discarded objects in the room and began hurling them at Peter, creating a moving screen of debris between them.

Peter flicked all of them away impatiently, barely straining with the effort now. Somewhere at the back of his mind, his grip on the dark pit of power within him was loosening. He could feel the sweetness of it coursing through his veins, the clang of triumph at its siren song as it danced through him. He needed it now more than anything however, he needed it to protect Claire against these people and so he didn't push it away.

Peter found himself smirking, casually closing his eyes in the midst of the chaos. The other man was about to die and didn't even know it.

When he reopened his eyes, time around him had stopped. He could see Claire battling her attacker, a woman who towered over Claire but appeared to be losing the fight. Claire had taken her lessons with Niki just as seriously as Peter took his sessions with Claude and Peter proudly noted that her efforts had produced spectacular results. She didn't possess super strength, but she knew had to use her small body to good effect. Peter strolled past them almost a little too leisurely, bending to avoid a ball of fire that had just been hurled at Sylar by his foe. Sylar had his hand extended in front of him, no doubt about to employ telekinesis to block the attack. Peter felt oddly detached from the scene. Sylar and Claire looked like wax figures, a remnant of an era long gone.

Peter took the time to look around in the chaos. Hiro's ability was a marvel. What was more astonishing was that he didn't feel the need to use it too often, content to live like any normal man. His friend was much more nobler in nature than Peter was. Hiro only used his power to save the world; Peter was about to use it to kill another human being.

Peter finally came face to face with the man, who had a few feet on him as far as height was concerned. But he would never know how unfair their match had been; he had never stood a chance against Peter.

It scared Peter that what he was about to do was so easy, so final. He reached out and calmly placed his hand against the man's cheek. Placed it gently, almost reverently, bracing himself for the impact of his power flowing through him. At the very instant he unfroze time, Peter directed the entire force of his will into the man, igniting a heady stream of fire straight into the man's body.

But that wasn't all. He kept his hand planted on the man's face, directing just the right amount of fire to ensure that every vein, every inch of skin burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

The man blazed instantly, becoming a human torch. Peter teleported himself a few feet away, averting his eyes to the blaze. The screams of pain suddenly became more horrific and Peter seemed to snap out of his dream then, realising what he had done.

Claire and Sylar whipped around, disoriented and confused. Claire at least seemed to have some idea of what had just happened, abandoning her fight and rushing to Peter who was now on his knees. "Peter!" She screamed, catching him just as he fell back into her arms.

Sylar frowned, his momentary distraction allowing his attacker to launch a massive fire ball in their direction. He dived away just in time but the streak of flame twirled past, separating him from Peter and Claire on the other side as the upper floors of the warehouse rained between them. The remaining figures took the opportunity to flee, the man responsible for the fire shooting two more bursts at them for good measure.

The fire had ignited the abandoned gas cylinders behind them, causing an immense explosion. Claire was knocked off her feet and Peter instinctively rolled over, covering her body with hers. The entire room was now alight, the flames creeping and dancing up the walls and onto the ceiling, lapping angrily at their feet. The heat was so intense it felt like his skin was melting right off his bones.

Which it was. He held up his right hand only to find a charred stump in its place. The reek of burning flesh crawled into his nose, nauseating him.

"Go!" Peter barely heard Sylar's shout above the haze as he cradled Claire's body underneath his. "Warn the others!"

Still doubting his sanity, still doubting everything, Peter grabbed Claire with his good hand and helped her up with difficulty. Besides being slightly dazed from being knocked to the ground and singed, she seemed to have recovered completely, which was more than could be said for him.

They grasped, pulled and tugged each other towards the nearest window. Peter's ability to regenerate unfortunately didn't include immunity from pain; with every step his lungs seared and the pain from the side of his body that apparently was still alight brought tears to his eyes. Claire had to step behind him and push him bodily out of the room; the fall onto the ground outside not nearly as painful as it could have been.

He felt her trying to drag him away from the blaze, but he was too heavy for her. If Peter hadn't been in so much pain he could have done any number of things to get them out of danger. But as it was, his entire mind seemed to have frozen. The only thing he was aware of was the throbbing pain that closed around his entire body and it was all he could do to remain conscious.

Claire was pulling him, step by painful step, away from the blazing inferno. But before she could get them to a safe distance the entire warehouse exploded, the force of the blast knocking both of them up and off the ground. Peter again felt flames licking against his body and knew that both he and Claire must have been fully alight. The heat singed and burned his skin again, waves and waves of yet more pain assaulting his body that never seemed to stop. He was being burned alive and god, it hurt so much he just wanted to die.

The one part of his mind still functioning screamed silently, over and over. This was justice, for what he had just done to the other man. He had burned him and now Peter was being burned alive in turn. It was vortex of agony and torture that Peter feared he'd never escape.

Claire crawled over to him, scooping him up in her arms. She pressed his smoking husk close to hers, cradling him gently. Although his body was already beginning to regenerate, she held him fast, his screams of torment not quite muffled against her heaving chest.

The sensation of Claire's hands pressed against his cheeks was the last thing he felt as he slipped at last into blissful unconsciousness.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

"**The Dark Night"**

Claire was terrified and scared out of her mind until Peter regained consciousness. She had never been so relieved in her life.

He moaned, his eyes flickering erratically. Peter's skin still felt dry and parched against hers as she held him, but that would soon disappear. Their ability to heal always ensured that everything returned to normal no matter how badly they'd been hurt.

Claire was still clearly in a state of shock and didn't have the slightest inkling of what had just happened. Everything had happened with lightening speed. First Sylar, then the mysterious men – well, people, she was pretty sure that the person she was fighting had been a woman – coming after them. Then Sylar of all people telling them to go – it was no wonder Claire was confused.

What she found interesting was that even though she and Peter both had the ability to regenerate, she tended to heal a lot faster. Perhaps it was the development of her natural abilities but these days it took her hardly any time at all to recover from anything.

Peter groaned, his head rolling against her stomach. She made shushing noises as shuddered, his eyes opening. His entire body still racked with pain and it physically hurt Claire to look down on him like this. "Hey." She said gently, stroking his hair. "You're back."

His eyes streamed with painful tears. Claire couldn't imagine the agony he had just been through. He had in effect been burned alive – twice – with the added sting that he was completely aware and alive throughout the entire experience. She allowed him to sob weakly, not minding how frail he appeared. This was Peter and he was her entire world; she was proud that she was here to take care of him like he had taken care of her so many times.

His tears finally subsided and she could feel life beginning to return to his body. He squeezed her hand tightly, groaning as he sat up with Claire's help. "Thank you." Peter said simply, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You saved me."

"You saved _us_." She replied quietly, her gaze drifting to the husk of the warehouse they had just been in. Peter's gaze followed hers and they both contemplated what had just happened. "Peter, what happened?"

He shook his head, as confused as she was. "I don't know. First Sylar, then … those men."

Her eyes flicked back to the blazing wreckage. "Do you think Sylar could have survived that?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter, they had powers. Just like Sylar said, and they were trying to kill us."

"But why though?" He mused. At any other time Claire would've laughed at the incongruity of them sitting in a puddle of dirt in the middle of Brooklyn, staring at the remains of a fire that had been started by a superpowered being. It was straight out of a really bad comic book. But then again, their whole lives seemed to have leaped straight out of the deranged mind of some comic book author.

"Sylar said … They worked for the organisation my dad worked for. They must be behind this."

"But it makes no sense." Peter burst out, frustration making him pound his fists hard. "Why kill us? What good are we to them dead?" He swallowed. "Especially with our powers."

"Maybe they weren't trying to kill us." Claire surmised quietly. "Sylar said it himself. He found out about them. They were probably sent to kill him and we just got in their way." There was something else she couldn't understand. She hesitated before plunging on. "Peter … what did you do in there?" Claire asked quietly, her gaze penetrating. "I think I saw you – I think you killed that man."

She saw his Adam's Apple bobbing, made uncomfortable by her probing question. "I … I think I did."

He sounded so full of regret and disgust, she had to reassure him. "You had to Peter. He was going to kill us."

He shook his head, more forcefully this time. His eyes swum with torment. "You don't understand, I … I enjoyed it."

Claire found that hard to believe. "I don't believe that." Almost as much to reassure herself as well as him, she brushed her lips against his, the warmth from their contact breathing life into both of them. "You're a good man, Peter. You died for me even when you didn't know – you know. You'd never … like it. You had to do it and I'm glad you did." She broke their intense gaze, getting painfully off the ground. "I think we should go. Place is going to be swarming with people soon."

"You're right." He gasped painfully, allowing Claire to help him up. His chest heaved and he stretched his joints as if getting used to movement again. "We have to see whether the others are okay. There's no telling who they'll go after next."

* * *

If Peter was feeling anything near as lost as she was, they were in trouble. Claire's mind was blank, a sensation she didn't enjoy. It was lucky that Peter at least seemed to have formed some sort of plan. Otherwise they'd be stuck in limbo for the next ever.

Peter reached for his cell phone, discovering that it had unfortunately been destroyed in the blast. After urging Claire to pull hers out and finding that hers too had been decimated, he frantically tugged at his hair.

"Okay, this is what we have to do. We have to call everyone right away, make sure they're okay. Tell them what happened." His eyes searched the deserted area. "Okay, okay, okay. Shit." He snapped his fingers as Claire looked on, not liking how frenzied he was becoming. He reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it as much for his comfort as hers. "I'll … teleport us out of here. Back to Nathan's. We'll use his phone to warn the others."

Claire nodded, stepping closer to him. Compared to her jumbled thoughts, Peter actually sounded a lot more rational than she did. Besides, she already trusted him with her life so there was no question about following him.

Soon they materialised in the Petrelli home, the sensation not nearly as jolting as it had been earlier in the day when Hiro had transported them back to Nathan's apartment from Odessa. Claire couldn't believe that had only been today; it felt like an entire lifetime had passed her by since then.

The house was quiet which given the lateness of the hour, didn't surprise either of them. Claire found herself by Peter's side as they tiptoed through the house together. She knew as well as Peter did that Nathan often went to bed late, preferring to keep to his study to not disturb the rest of his family.

They crept down the hall to Nathan's study. Peter's brother seemed pretty surprised to find them there, almost jumping out of his chair. "Shit. You guys scared me." He scanned their shocked expressions, their dishevelled and blackened clothing. "What the hell happened to you two?"

"Nathan." Peter stepped into the room, glancing furtively around. "We're in danger. All of us are in danger."

Nathan barely blinked at Peter's dramatic declaration. He stood however, heading straight towards the decanter he always kept well filled. "It's Sylar, isn't it?"

"No." Claire hung back while Peter continued the conversation. "It's not. Sylar told us –"

"Say what?" Nathan cut him off brusquely, staring at Claire to confirm that Peter hadn't lost what was left of his marbles. "You _talked_ to this guy? Am I going crazy in my old age or is this the same guy you killed and who nearly destroyed New York last time we met? The same guy who could fry stuff with his mind and god knows what else. _That _guy?"

"It's the same guy." Claire confirmed, shooting a warning glance at Peter. In a strange way, she was more capable of handling Nathan in his sarcastic moods than Peter was. Peter was sensitive and Claire suspected he still looked up to his older brother; he tended to get defensive around Nathan. Claire on the other hand didn't have any hang ups whatsoever with Nathan and was comfortable going toe to toe with the man. "We don't have much time."

She carefully explained everything that Sylar had told them, with Peter interjecting salient details that she accidentally left out. Nathan at first looked sceptical, then stunned, but at the end of their narrative his first concern was right where she knew it would be –his family. Nathan's eyes narrowed. "You think these guys are coming after us? After all of us?"

"We can't take the chance." Peter replied quietly, looking earnestly at his brother. "Your boys … Micah. Matt's son. Too many people could get hurt. We have to warn everyone – now."

Intuitive understanding passed between the brothers and Nathan nodded, rounding his desk to pick up the phone. He fished his cell phone out of his jacket, tossing it to Claire. "I'll call Hiro, get him to make house calls. Bennet, you get onto Parkman and Hansen, they'll need to know about this. Peter –"

"I'm going to check the others are okay."

"Like hell you are." Nathan roared, then glanced outside to check that he hadn't disturbed anyone else in the house. "You tell me there's as many as five guys out there with multiple powers and you want to go out there so you can _go up against them_?" Claire had to admit Nathan had a point. Peter was impulsive and this was one of the times he was being dangerously so.

"Nathan's right." Claire rejoined quietly, glaring at Nathan's outraged tone. "It's safer if all of us stay together."

Peter shook his head stubbornly. "No, I have to check on the others. Besides, you expect Hiro to make house calls while I sit here twiddling my thumbs? I don't think so."

"The guy can bend time and space!" Nathan winced as his voice rose. "And don't tell me you can do the same stuff because you can't. Hiro can control his ability while you – you're more than a little rusty. You told me so yourself."

"Okay, can we please start warning people? This is getting us nowhere."

Nathan's nostrils flared but he picked up the phone, dialling Hiro's number. Peter glared at his brothers back, avoiding Claire's gaze. Claire didn't have the luxury at the moment to worry about whether Peter's feelings were hurt by her siding with Nathan; she had to warn Matt and Audrey.

She knew what Peter was going to do the split second he did it. As she heard Matt's voice answering her call, Claire spun around only to see Peter teleport out of the room.

"Nathan."

Nathan turned around to find Peter gone. "Shit."

* * *

Surprisingly, it didn't take Claire and Nathan all that long to explain the situation to everyone. It reminded Claire of high school when one person would call another, who'd then call the next person down the chain. Of course, that had been to arrange trips to the mall, not matters of life and death.

Hiro had already teleported to check up on Ando first then Mohinder, bringing them both back to Nathan's study. Isaac wasn't at his apartment. Nathan had contemplated using his empty apartment in the city as a central meeting point to draw focus away from his family but time was too short to get everyone out of danger. They needed to gather first, then work on a plan.

While they waited for Peter and the others to arrive, Nathan arranged for his security detail – all of them – to come to head to his house and protect his family. Nathan had reasoned – and Claire had agreed – that these people were ruthless enough to use not only helpless bystanders against them, but their own families too. And there was no way that Nathan would let anyone hurt his family.

Peter soon reappeared looking defiant but shaken, Micah in his arms. His clothing, which had already been soiled pretty thoroughly from his incineration earlier that night, if possible, looked even more tattered and worse for wear. Claire rushed to him anxiously as he gently placed Micah down, Claire noticing for the first time that the boy was unconscious and bleeding.

"Peter." She rushed forward as he collapsed wearily into her arms, Claire grunting with the effort of holding him up. "What happened?"

She helped him to the chaise in the corner of the study and watched Peter's chest as he gasped painfully for breath, his shoulders hunched. She was probably the only person besides Claude who knew that using borrowed powers while possible, took a lot out of Peter. He waved her concern away, getting up after a while. "I'm fine Claire. I need … I need to get back to Niki and DL."

She stopped him, her grip iron-like. "Don't even think about going without me." Her tone left no room for disagreement, and to Peter's credit, he didn't try to dissuade her.

He nodded grimly, grabbing her waist and teleported her along with him. It struck Claire that they hadn't even bothered to let Nathan know what they were doing, but in the midst of the commotion, he doubted that they would be missed for quite a while. She also hadn't asked Peter what had happened to make him teleport out with only Micah in his arms, clearly having suffered some sort of attack.

It was too late though as they appeared suddenly in the Sanders home. It gave Claire a sense of déjà vu as her disorientation cleared and she realised she was standing amidst smoke and rubble at what used to be the comfortable brick home of Niki and DL Sanders.

A loud bang reverberated just outside the house. Claire sighed in relief at the sounds of fighting. Because if there was a fight still going on it meant that at least Niki or DL –hopefully both – were still alive. She caught Peter's gaze who nodded as they sprinted towards the commotion.

It was apparent to Claire even as they were running towards the fight that both Niki and DL were still alive, but barely. They were evenly matched against two hooded assailants, figures that reminded Claire eerily of those she, Peter and Sylar had fought earlier that night.

But these weren't the same ones they had fought earlier. Claire knew that just from the abilities they directed towards Niki and DL. One was able to fling water out, water that then crystallised into ice on coming into contact with anything it hit. The other figure was able to erect some sort of force field around herself, preventing the trees that Niki had ripped up from the ground and thrown in her direction from making contact.

Niki and DL were both looking a little beaten and breathless. Peter called out to them, intending to draw attention away from them. Niki seemed to rally seeing Peter and Claire; she sprinted towards the woman who was attacking her and threw her bodily against the shed that DL had built for himself to indulge his newfound interest for woodwork. The woman lay stunned, the objects that she had been holding off with her mind crashing onto her in a shower of debris.

Claire was only a few steps behind Peter and Niki as they pinned her against the ground, Niki's boots millimetres away from crushing her windpipe. "Who are you people?" Peter roared, his voice booming ominously. The woman seemed a lot smaller now that she was on the ground. "Why are you coming after us?"

Claire caught up to them just in time to hear the woman snarl. "You have something we want." She spat, her cold eyes darting to Claire as she said so.

But Peter and Niki didn't seem to have caught the look. Niki turned to check on DL, who had just phased through the fence separating their house from their neighbours. The man he had been fighting made to chase after him by hurtling over the fence but before he could do so, Peter had appeared suddenly, pulling him back onto the ground.

The man snarled angrily, shooting a massive jet of water straight into Peter. It was like he had been struck with a blast from a fire hydrant; Peter was knocked skywards into the dark night and if he hadn't been able to control his landing, he would've had a rough fall. But as it was, he glided smoothly back onto the ground, his movements supple and oddly graceful in such a tense situation.

Peter quirked his eyebrow dangerously, and even from this distance Claire felt something shift and loosen within him. How she felt it she didn't know. She just did. It was like Peter had opened a secret vault within himself, using a key that no one besides him had ever known about.

His eyes met hers in that instant and Claire gasped. They were cold, hard, sharp and unrelenting. They reminded her of Sylar's just before he had murdered Jackie in front of her at Union Wells.

Claire's attention was drawn away from Peter by Niki grimacing, careful to keep her boot on the woman's windpipe. "Move and I'll separate your head from the rest of your body."

The fierce anger that flared from Niki's face was unlike anything Claire had seen on her friend before. Niki along with Peter was one of the most gentlest people she knew; but now in the heat of the fighting, Claire glimpsed what it must have been like to have faced Jessica, Niki's alter ego. Niki had managed to banish Jessica semi-permanently from her life over a year ago, but Niki had once confessed to Claire that Jessica still appeared in moments of crises. She guessed that now counted as one of those moments.

Almost as if the other woman could read her thoughts, Jessica glared at her, smirking sarcastically. "Back away Claire-bear. You don't want to know what I do to people like her."

Claire shook her head but backed away just in case. When Peter had lost control of his powers once at Nathan's campaign headquarters, Claire hadn't been afraid to trust her instincts and do what had to be done. But that had still been Peter. Jessica was an entirely different person altogether and had absolutely no ties to Niki whatsoever.

The entire scene was crazy. DL had disappeared to save his life, Niki had turned into Jessica who was now threatening to tear the woman lying on the ground limb from limb if she didn't provide the right answers, Peter was … who knew what had happened to him. Claire, needless to say, felt completely helpless and vulnerable at the moment.

There was a flash and detonation and suddenly, the man that had been struggling with Peter was engulfed in a ball of flame. He hadn't been destroyed though; at the last minute he had erected a wall of pure ice that served as shield against Peter's onslaught of flame and heat. Undeterred, Peter flicked the wall impatiently away with his mind, a tiny smile curling around the sides of his mouth, watching calmly as the wall of ice dissolved into trickling water. The man shot another jet of liquid ice at Peter but this time instead of flicking it away with telekinesis, Peter sarcastically used the man's own power against him, Peter's stream of water more like a gush that bowled the other man to his knees. In an instant, Peter was beside him, his hands about to strike.

The move seemed calculated, cold and menacing and Claire couldn't quite believe that it was Peter standing there perpetrating it. "Peter!" She screamed. Somehow, it seemed important to prevent him from doing what he was clearly about to do.

But she was too late. Peter gently, almost reverently, placed his hands against the man's face. A millisecond later, the man caught alight, blazing into an inferno with the backdrop of his anguished screams lingering into the night.

He had killed another person, in exactly the same way, as earlier that night. What had happened for him to be able to do this to another person? The Peter Petrelli she knew and loved – he wouldn't have so deliberately done this, a second time. The first time had been a mistake in the heat of battle. The second time – what was that?

Claire rushed over, staring at Peter in disbelief. "What have you done?" She asked, her stomach sinking.

Peter's hands were shaking. In fact, his entire body trembled and beads of sweat dotted his handsome features. He looked like he was in a state of shock and Claire wasn't sure whether he was actually aware of what he'd done. She prayed he wasn't. He rocked back and forth, collapsing into Claire like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

In that moment, a flash of understanding pierced her. To the common eye, Peter's ability made him one of the most powerful beings that ever walked the planet. But Claire saw in that instant how untrue that was. Peter's ability was only ever as good as his control and as a human being having flaws and feelings like everyone else, his capabilities only extended as far as he was able to extend himself. Beyond that, he'd lose whatever tenuous control he had and now she knew what the consequences of that loss was.

Busy holding onto Peter for dear life, Claire didn't have the presence of mind to reign Jessica's enthusiasm in. She stood helpless, watching as Jessica smirked in repulsive excitement as she ground her boots into the other woman's neck. The horrific cracking sound was enough for Claire to avert her eyes, but such was Jessica's fervour that some of the blood from the carnage managed to splash across her as she cradled Peter against her.

The metallic stench of the woman's blood – probably mingled with a dozen others throughout this crazy night – was almost enough to make Claire pass out. But she sucked her breath in, willing herself to stand up. If Claire could stand then she could also help Peter stand, and they all needed Peter to get them back to Nathan's study.

A shadow crept up behind her. Claire knew it was Jessica and knowing how indiscriminate the other woman was about killing, she grasped Peter closer to prepare for the inevitable blow. But instead there was a gentle touch around her shoulders. Claire turned half in fear and half in exhaustion, relief flooding onto her features at Niki's kind eyes looking down at her. "I'm so sorry, sweetie."

Claire allowed the other woman to help her and Peter up. By this time, DL had reappeared, more than a little shocked at the carnage on his front lawn.

In the distance, sirens began to sound and they knew they couldn't be caught on the scene. DL wrapped his arms protectively around Niki, staring perplexedly at Peter's sunken state.

"Peter?" Claire shook him gently, looking anxiously down at his hunched shoulders. He didn't react and his bent head suggested that he wasn't capable of even walking at the moment, let along teleporting all four of them to Nathan's study.

Claire glanced at Niki helplessly, who nodded back. "Come on." She gestured to DL and the others. "We need to split, get in touch with Hiro."

DL frowned, glancing at Peter's hunched form. Claire could tell he was curious at what had happened but now was not the time to get the answers.

They ran as fast as they could away from the former Sanders home, Claire and Peter lagging behind. They ran for a few blocks before DL decided they had gotten enough distance from the wreckage, Claire's grip on Peter's arm painful even for her.

She was worried. She had only seen him like this once before and that had been the first time he had lost complete control over his powers at Nathan's campaign headquarters three years ago. Niki and DL had been there too and it was odd that they were once again witnesses to Peter's prelude to self-destruction.

Luckily enough for them, DL's phone was the only remaining phone that hadn't been damaged in the fight. He quickly got in touch with Hiro who immediately teleported them back to Nathan's study.

The place was in a state of confusion. The commotion must have awoken the rest of the household because when they returned, Heidi and Angela Petrelli were there, looking stunned at the crowd that had invaded Nathan's study.

It was Nathan's mother that found her voice first. "What in heaven's name is going on here and why is there so much blood on my carpet?" Nathan looked at his mother in exasperation, knowing he did not have an entirely satisfactory answer to give her.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

"**Paved With Good Intentions"**

The Petrelli family home, usually one of stately serenity, was now in absolute chaos. Even through the heady mix of the ultimate pain and power throbbing through his veins, Peter saw that his friends and family were in a state of panic. Even Nathan, usually so gruff and serene – a former Marine – looked dishevelled, caught completely off guard at the gathering storm that had overtaken their lives.

The past hours were a haze to Peter. He caught distinct images as they ran through his mind, but it was like viewing snapshots of someone else's family holiday. But in his case, the images were less of someone's holiday than nightmare, filled with splattered blood, reckless vengeance and an insatiable hunger to murder and maim.

That had been him. Killing someone when he hadn't needed to, just to satisfy that urge that curdled within him, screaming for blood, begging for release.

Peter shook his head. No, that couldn't have been him. In all his 29 years, he had never once exhibited any need to harm anyone or anything. He was no saint, but he hadn't been the worst sinner either.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the dimmed lights, his old Greenpeace posters catching the edge of his vision. He realised then he was lying on the bed in his old room, staring at the freshly painted ceiling, the edges of which were trimmed in quasi Georgian style.

Peter had always hated how ornate his room – and the entire house for that matter – had looked. He much preferred the modern ease and comfort of his own apartment. It didn't impose any expectations on him, didn't make him feel the need to prove his worth to critical eyes.

He opened his eyes more fully. It was only then that he felt Claire's small hands covering his, her skin pulsating warmly in his grasp.

"Glad you decided to come back." Claire said wearily. He squinted in the semi-darkness, catching the tiredness around her eyes.

"What –?" He started to ask.

"You passed out. Again." She tried to hide her anxiety but Peter saw right through it. Sometimes, he felt so connected to Claire that it was impossible to tell where he left off and she began. "After … what happened." She hesitated. "Hiro teleported us back here. You were muttering something, rambling. You collapsed and we … Nathan and DL got you to the couch. You screamed and sat up a while later but you kind of … you know."

"Passed out again." Peter finished for her. He sat up gingerly, the fatigue hauntingly familiar.

Of course it was familiar to him. He seemed to get hurt or injured or wounded on a semi-regular basis and he knew that if not for Claire's regeneration, he'd probably have died long ago.

It was funny Peter mused, that even now, three years after absorbing her ability, he still thought of the instant healing as Claire's power. It was the same with all the other abilities he'd taken. They were never really his, just borrowed with no intention of being given back.

"Are you feeling –" She was about to say fine, but rephrased it. "Better?" She brought her hand to his temple, her touch bringing a feeling of warmth back into his body.

"Somewhat." Peter winced as he accidentally bumped himself against the wall. "What's been happening?"

"Well, there was a lot of shouting. Mainly from Nathan and DL and – Jessica. Then Niki came back again and it was just Nathan and DL doing all the shouting." Claire smiled, prompting Peter to smile in understanding.

"Not about me?"

"Only partly." A short giggle burst out of her, before she clamped down on it, looking guilty. "Didn't know your ego was so huge." His brother had a notoriously short fuse and it wasn't a huge stretch of the imagination to visualise Nathan coming to blows with DL. He knew that everyone must have been in a heightened state with the fresh spate of attacks.

Peter's eyes glided over Claire, sitting serenely on a chair placed next to his bed. He reached out, tracing a gentle hand over her cheek. "What about you?" He asked softly, probingly. Her smile faltered a bit, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheets.

She remained motionless, and it was only the extreme stillness in the room that allowed Peter to hear her irregular breathing. She was suffering but in true Claire fashion, she was trying to keep everything unpleasant inside.

Peter's heart broke for her. He gestured for her to join him and it was all the signal she needed. She scrambled up, Peter moving to make room for her. Her arms curled around his chest and waist and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Hey." He coaxed softly, stroking her hair in broad, even strokes. "I'm sorry I gave you such a scare."

He felt her shaking her head. Peter listened keenly for a response but it never came. She was reluctant to say something, a feeling that he was unused to with her. "Claire, whatever you're thinking you can say it. It's me, remember? Your hero."

The word – their inside joke because she was _his _cheerleader and he was _her _hero – had been designed to lighten the tension but it didn't seem to work. After another few moments of silence, she finally caved. "You scared me Peter. It was like you were someone else. You … killed that man." Claire looked up at him, her eyes bristling in the dim light. "You killed that man and you looked like you enjoyed it."

He knew she was waiting for him to contradict it, protest that he had done nothing of the kind. But his jaw remained locked. Peter couldn't deny it, couldn't deny that at that instant those were exactly the same thoughts that had flown through his mind. There had been nothing but blind rage and a repulsive happiness to use whatever means at his disposal to vanquish his enemy, be it killing him with his bare hands or popping his eyes open like he used to do with the bubble wrap from packaging.

"Peter?" Claire asked uncertainly, jogging him back into the present. "You didn't –"

"I don't know." Peter bit back, a bit more harshly than intended. But his hold around her intensified. "I'm sorry. I … I can't explain it. Something's happening to me. There's … something, I – I liked it." He couldn't hide the disgust in his own voice. "I liked killing him. It didn't matter who he was. He was my enemy and I just wanted to… I needed to, so badly –" His throat squeezed shut and he couldn't continue. Peter wanted to empty the entire contents of his stomach. The memory of it both repulsed and excited him.

He thought she would be disgusted, frightened at least. But instead, she nuzzled against him, her breath warm on his neck. "It wasn't you." The absolute conviction in her voice comforting him. "I've seen it lately, with you." She clarified. "There's something different, but it's not you Peter. You know it isn't."

He wanted so badly to believe her. But she didn't know the full story. "You have no idea –"

"Then tell me."

The simplicity of her challenge threw him. Peter was so used to keeping his inner self from others for fear of criticism or ridicule, he hadn't yet broken out of that pattern, not even from Claire. This was something that had terrified even him.

But seeing the trust in her eyes, his inner wall broke and he told her everything. She listened with a patience that belied her 20 years, and Peter poured every fear and nightmare out for her to see, all the while searching her face for signs of fear.

At last he finished. She shifted so that she was able to look into his eyes, no doubt seeing his uncertainty. She smiled and planted a slow, lingering kiss on his lips.

"What was that for?" Peter asked curiously, abashed by the sudden feeling of relief, relief that she wasn't repulsed by the darkness in him.

"You looked so scared. So … I don't know." She shrugged, smiling. "I'm not scared of you Peter. I'll never be scared of you."

He sensed there was something else. Their connection was both a blessing and a curse. "But?"

"But … I am scared of what's inside you." She rushed on. "But I'm not scared of you. Does that make sense?"

Strangely, it did. "I just don't know what I'm going to do next."

"We'll figure it out." Claire retorted impishly.

"Oh we will, will we?" She nodded and she looked so adorable at that moment, Peter had to lean in and kiss her again.

The moments their lips met, Peter was reminded of the explosion of nuclear proportions that her lips, her touch elicited within him. They stared dumbly at each other before abruptly kissing again, their hands already frantically grabbing at each other's bodies in an attempt to disrobe. Peter had never been a playboy but he had never been a monk either. He was sensitive and caring and generally stayed more or less closer to the monk end of the spectrum, preferring to only be with women he genuinely liked. He had never prioritised the physical over the emotional, which Nathan had mocked him relentlessly for.

What seemed strange was that they once together, they needed each other so often. Maybe it was because of the traumatic events of the past day or so, maybe it was like opening a floodgate to a dam that should never have been built, but being with Claire, whether emotionally or physically, was always at the forefront of his mind. She was like a drug. The more he had her, the more he craved and the more of her it took to satisfy him.

Peter was pretty sure she felt the same way because she ripped his shirt off with a desperation that was usually only when shopping for shoes armed with Peter's credit card. Far be it for Peter to stop her enthusiasm; he allowed himself to flow with the sensations pulsing in his groin, itching to get out. He reached under her shirt, taking his time to run his hands up her back, feeling the skin pulsate beneath him. She was so smooth and so beautiful, he savoured her like ambrosia to parched senses.

He rubbed, moulded his hands over her breasts and she let out small gasps of pleasure in response. Peter still wasn't used to the sensations that being so near her caused and he was already aching to satisfy that hunger coursing within him. He pulled her shirt over her head, her arms stretching skywards to accommodate him. As Peter leaned in and undid the clasp on her bra, he heard a loud rap on the door.

It was Nathan. Far from being embarrassed at what he had interrupted, he gave them both a once over before abruptly switching on the lights. Claire scrambled behind Peter, grabbing his shirt to cover herself. "Sorry. You guys have to be in on this." He paused, discomfort lining his face. "We haven't been able to get a hold of Isaac. Hiro thinks – well, we all thing it might not be … good news. You know, with his paintings."

Peter nodded, a feeling of desperation igniting within him as he remembered Isaac's paintings from the day before. It seemed like no matter what they did, someone, somewhere, was forever chasing after them, intent on destroying them one by one.

* * *

After several more frantic phone calls to Isaac, they all gathered in the kitchen. The main cause for the relocation was the number of people now at the Petrelli house as well as the unsavoury pools of blood that stained the rich carpet, mute testimony to the seriousness of all their encounters.

Peter couldn't believe that so much had happened within the last 24 hours. Yesterday morning he had awoken on a brilliant Sunday morning with Claire safely ensconced in his arms, now he and his friends were being pursued in a deadly game of cat and mouse. Who were these people and why were they coming after them? Had Sylar been in on it all along, or was he an unwitting pawn in a game that no one knew?

"We need to get some people over to Isaac's, now." Nathan said gruffly, hands on hips. "Hiro's tried calling but he's not picking up."

Hiro abruptly stood. "I can teleport –"

"You'll do no such thing waffle man." Nathan interrupted sharply. "These people – whoever they are – are clearly on some sort of mission. They have a plan, we don't. We go in there blind, we're likely to get ourselves killed. You all got that?" Although he was addressing everyone in the room, he looked pointedly at Hiro and Peter, the two most impulsively and control challenged people in the room.

Peter nodded wearily from his position on the stool, leaning back into Claire who was standing behind him. With the way he was feeling, there was no danger of him rushing off to do anything. Hiro sat back down silently.

"Well … we should split up then?" Mohinder said uncertainly, looking to Nathan.

That was the cue for Hiro to jump back up again. This time, Ando followed a split second behind him. "I'll go."

"Me too."

"You have no powers." Nathan said tersely, pointing out the obvious.

"I've never needed them before." Ando rejoined politely.

"He won't need them, because I'm going." Claire stepped out from behind Peter, facing Nathan with a trace of defiance on her face. "Don't even try to stop me Nathan, you know I'm the only one here who can't get hurt."

That pulled Nathan up short. "Fine." He looked tersely at Peter, who was hauling himself up. "And I suppose you're going too?"

Peter must have been spending too much time with Claire lately, because his defiance matched hers. "Did you even have to ask Nathan?"

"Thought I'd give it a shot." He looked to Niki and DL, who had Micah almost sandwiched between them, and Mohinder, Heidi and his mother who were standing silently off to the side. Peter's nephews were obviously still sleeping soundly, oblivious to the storm gathering around them. "That should be more than enough. The rest of us should stay here, we need to protect our families."

"Nathan, is this – I mean, how serious is this?" Heidi asked, her eyes shining with fear. "If it's a real threat, shouldn't be go to the police?"

Peter was always surprised whenever Nathan stopped to listen to anyone, but he should have been used to it by now. Of anyone that he was aware of, Nathan listened to Heidi's counsel the most often. "I've thought about it. But what do we tell them? These men, people – they're coming after us? Why? Because we all have powers that they want to steal from us?"

"We could leave those last few gems out." Peter's mother said pointedly, glaring at her eldest son. "There is such a thing as not telling the absolute truth, something I'm sure you're used to doing by now."

Peter could almost hear 'sure, Mom' coming out of Nathan as his brother took a deep breath. "Look, we're wasting time." Nathan turned away from his mother, back to Peter. "You guys need to go, now. Before it's too late."

Peter nodded sombrely and the others almost out of instinct gathered together in preparation. He couldn't explain it, but as Peter stepped out into the pre-dawn light, he knew that something bad was going to happen.

* * *

All was quiet when they got to Isaac's door. The dawn had broken by the time they had gotten to his street and climbed the stairs to Isaac's apartment. Peter in particular had some difficulty, not having fully recovered from his encounters the last few hours. He laboriously negotiating the steps while Claire placed a hand on his arm, her touch feather light. She wasn't trying to help him up, but was rather giving him emotional support, willing him to do it on his own.

He marvelled at her intuition. Peter would have been irritated at any attempts to assist him physically, but emotionally he was glad that she was there. The fight last night with the hooded strangers had taken its toll on him.

Peter was starting to detect a pattern. While on the surface his empathic ability sounded extraordinarily versatile and unique, outstripping the usefulness of almost every other ability he could think of, it did have its limits.

The limit was of course Peter himself. Thinking back to all the powers he had absorbed over the last few years, the times that he had soaked up borrowed abilities the most were the times that it had drained him the most, several times almost to breaking point. His prolonged coma in Odessa just after his first encounters with Hiro, Isaac, Matt, Claire, Sylar and to an extent Nathan had put so much stress on his body it had had to shut down to recover. Same with when he had first seen Niki, DL, Micah and even the man Claire referred to as the Haitian, the strain on him had caused Peter to lose complete control for a while. He would have loved to discuss it more with Claude or Mohinder when he had the time. But as it was, they had to find out whether Isaac was still safe.

"Peter." Claire whispered softly from her position next to him as Hiro was about to open the door. "There's something wrong."

Peter grabbed Hiro roughly, preventing him from opening the door. "Wait." He whispered, glancing at Claire. She nodded imperceptibly, all four of them backing away from the door slowly and retreating around the corner.

"What is it?"

"There's something … I don't know, it doesn't feel right." Claire jerked her head up, as if listening intently to something. "Something's wrong, we have to get in there."

Peter had no idea how Claire was able to sense this. As far as he knew, this wasn't part of her ability. The only thing he could wrench from his memories was what she had told him about Jackie Wilcox's death, something she didn't liked to recall that often. Claire had confessed to Peter that she had felt a dark shadow approaching, something that turned out to be Sylar and it had made her back away. She still felt guilty about not trying hard enough, blaming herself for Jackie's death even after all this time.

There wasn't time to think about that night. They had already wasted far too much time, precious seconds that could mean life and death for Isaac.

Without thinking, without even contemplating whether it was appropriate to do so, Peter ran towards the door and blew it straight off its hinges. It lay, splintered and slightly charred from the force of his touch as he charged into his friend's apartment.

Claire, Hiro and Ando looked at him, their faces stunned. It was the first time Peter had tried to combine two of his borrowed powers; the telekinesis and radioactivity actually worked quite well together.

As Hiro and Ando muscled through the remains of the door, Claire shot a look at Peter that was a mixture of apprehension and shock. It shocked him too how callously he was now using his powers after keeping them hidden for so long. He knew the repercussions would catch up with him; judging from the scattered remnants of his memories from last night, perhaps they already had.

Isaac's apartment was eerily quiet. Treading cautiously through the living area to the inner studio where he usually did most of his paintings, Peter saw with a sinking heart that there had evidently been a struggle. Isaac's blank canvasses, usually stacked in a neat order from the largest to the smallest, lay in a crumpled heap, shred to pieces, while blotches of splattered paint congealed and dried onto the wooden floors.

"Peter, Claire." Hiro called from the other room, his voice sad and deep. When Peter and Claire rushed into the living room, their worst nightmares were confirmed.

"Oh god." Peter heard Claire gasp in horror, dismay and dread next to him. The next moment she seemed to stumble against him as if the weight of all the horror that she had witnessed, coupled with the current one, was finally too much for her. As if on autopilot, Peter seized her as she leaned against him, cradling her shaking body in his.

Isaac lay on the floor, dead, bathed in a pool of his own blood. The top of his head had been sliced clean open and his brain was missing.

* * *

Isaac was dead, and Peter hadn't been able to save him.

What was the use of having all his powers – other people's powers really – if he couldn't even save a friend from the cruel fate that had befallen him? Isaac had been a gentle soul and minus the heroin addiction he had conquered a few years ago, had used his gift in the most honourable way imaginable – that of saving other people's lives.

And what had he gotten for it in return? Nothing. Just a painful death, his friends having left him to die while they had been forced to fight for their lives.

Claire was weeping uncontrollably, no doubt showing the strain of everything that had happened to her in the past couple of days. Peter realised then that, with the exception of Nathan, they hadn't yet told the others about their conversation with Sylar. Someone who, if the evidence was to be believed, had murdered yet again.

Had Peter been to blame for listening to Sylar then allowing him to kill his friend? Peter's eyes darkened and his fists crunched together in rage. If he had allowed this to happen, if Peter was ultimately to blame – then it should be his revenge to exact. If Peter had been foolish enough to allow himself to be blinded by Sylar, a known sadistic killer – who else but Peter was to blame?

"It happened awhile ago." Ando mumbled quietly to Peter, as if that made any difference. It didn't make a difference, because Isaac was still dead.

But what if … what if Peter could change that?

Hiro strolled over, looking at Peter curiously. "No. I know what you're thinking." His voice, although low and respectful, had a trace of steel in it. Even through her grief Claire noticed it, prompting her to raise her head from Peter's arms to survey the exchange.

"What am I thinking?" Peter replied defiantly, growing angrier by the minute. Who was Hiro to tell him what he could or couldn't do?

"Peter, you cannot go back in time and stop this. If you do, more than just Isaac's life will be at stake."

"What do you know of Isaac's life?" Peter bit back, his anger enough to make him release his hold on Claire. "I'm not going to do anything you haven't done before. Or have you forgotten?" Peter walked up to Hiro menacingly. "'Save the cheerleader, save the world.' Does that ring any bells for you? Or how about Charlie? Was she more important than Isaac because you loved her?"

"You don't understand how this works." Hiro said calmly, albeit backing away from Peter cautiously. "I have studied the effects that tampering with the space-time continuum could do. You haven't. You have the gift, but you don't know how to use it."

"Don't I?" Peter became aware of Claire grabbing hold of him as if to calm him, but he shrugged her off, rage pulsating through every sinew in his body. "You changed the time line when you told me to save Claire. She's here because of YOU." Claire shrieked as the lights in room exploded, Peter's eyes glinting dangerously. The walls shuddered for a while before coming to a standstill. "You're asking – no, _telling _me I can't do this because you're better at it than me? Is that it?"

Claire stepped between Hiro and Peter at that point, while Ando strolled a little casually to Hiro's side. "Stop it, Peter. Stop it. That's not what he means at all."

"Then what Claire?" His tone was so crisp, so biting it almost made her back away. But she bravely stood her ground, her shoulders straightening. "Isaac's life isn't as important as yours? Who are you – who is any of us to decide that?"

"That's right Peter." Hiro softly padded around Claire to face Peter. He had drawn his sword and although it wasn't pointed towards him, the intention was clear.

Peter smiled coldly at the flash of steel as the sunlight through the windows bounced off it. "You think you can stop me with that?" His lips curled, distorting his crooked smile into one of contempt. "You know you can't."

"Peter." Claire stepped into fully into the sunlight that was now streaming into the room, the start of a new day. She walked slowly toward him, her eyes blazing with trust, trusting that he wouldn't do anything to hurt or endanger any of them.

How could she do that? How could she trust him even now, when he was ultimately responsible for Isaac's death? Peter's mind flashed back to all the deaths that had surrounded him and the eternal question that had always hounded him blazed with renewed force – was he to blame for those deaths too?

"Peter, listen to me." Her voice was soft, sweet, capable of lulling him back to sanity. He trusted that voice, trusted her. She shook her head as she walked toward him, her voice beseeching. "We can't do this, not now. We have to stick together, we can't … _I _can't do this without you."

Those last words – uttered so brokenly – broke through his resolve. She stood in front of him now, her golden hair framing her face, a face of an angel. His angel. And whatever she commanded, he had to trust.

All the rage, anger, hurt and betrayal ballooned and exploded out of him all of a sudden, but Peter was able to smoother most of its effects. The wall between the studio and living area crumbled in a cloud of plaster and the windows shattered, but most of the structure remained intact. A faint hint of smoke lingered in the air before everything stilled. Knowing what Peter was capable of, the others breathed a visible sigh of relief.

Claire put her arms around him, sinking into the crook of his neck. "I love you Peter. Don't ever do that to me again."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

"**Crossroads"**

"You guys had a cosy chat with Sylar and you didn't tell the rest of us about it?" DL shouted incredulously, his eyes darting from Claire to Peter, who sat hunched, cross legged on the couch.

Peter seemed to have sunk into a sullen brood, something that was quite out of character for him. Claire knew his emotions had taken a beating the last day, having gone from ecstasy to hell. More than that though, she had noticed a change in him the last month or so, subtle hints that she had picked up here and there. She was surprised no one besides her had noticed.

That wasn't a priority for the others though. DL continued to pace back and forth and Claire got the distinct feeling that she was being interrogated and not in a particularly friendly manner either.

"And?" Even Mohinder seemed a bit put out by their lack of information. The rest of them – Niki, Micah, Hiro, Ando and even Peter's mom looked on with expressions carefully set to neutral. Nathan remained silently while surveying the scene, only willing to step in to placate DL if the need arose. Claire didn't know where Heidi was but she guessed that she was probably getting her boys prepared for whatever was to come.

Claire flared with anger at the lot of them. Was it Claire and Peter's fault that they had been fighting for their lives for more than 24 hours and Claire for one thing, had had next to no sleep during that time? Did they even realise how much Peter had gone through in the last day running around, making sure that everyone was looked after? And they were looking at them like they had deliberately withheld information about Sylar, when it had been the furthest thing from their minds?

Claire spun around, irritated at Mohinder's officious tone. "And what?"

DL butted in. "And what happened? You know, that little conversation you had with the guy that _murdered _Isaac."

Claire opened her mouth to protest angrily but Peter cut her off. "Lay off her." Peter muttered, his eyes still staring at the floor. "We were running for our lives, what the hell did you expect?"

"I expected one of you to at least have given the rest of us a head's up. Hell Peter, that could've been any one of us."

"It wasn't though, was it?" Peter bit back, glaring at the normally calm DL with murky eyes.

"Here's a question." Niki's tone was firm, but gentle. "What were you two doing talking to that madman? DL's right, he could've gone after any of us, including Micah."

Claire tossed a glance at Peter, whose eyes rose to meet hers for the first time. She was half afraid to find them as hostile as they had been when they had arrived back at Nathan's house, but his emotions seemed to have stilled. He nodded and Claire took that as her cue.

She knew it was important for the others to know why they had even listened to Sylar. As crazy as it sounded, and as likely he was the person who had killed her family, Claire had believed him. He had volunteered to stay behind in the burning warehouse and he had been the one to have noticed the hooded figures outside, poised for attack. Without that crucial split second of notice they might have been caught by surprise. Sylar had done his part to save them and Claire wasn't entirely sure that hadn't been for real.

Of course, a part of her wanted him dead anyway for killing Jackie and all those other people she hadn't known. He shouldn't get to say he was sorry; even if he had suffered like he said he'd had, everything shouldn't just be okay for him.

But that was vengeance, not justice. Seeing Peter almost being consumed by vengeance earlier underlined how subtle that difference was.

"We wouldn't have let that happen Niki." Peter replied softly although his eyes remained trained on Claire.

"He had Lori." Claire added. They told the others what had transpired with Sylar, right up to when Peter and Claire had appeared on Nathan's doorstep. When they finished, Claire was relieved to note that at least most of the others had lost the looks of accusation.

Almost all of them. DL, who had parked himself by the far wall, still looked slightly incredulous. "So fine. Sylar – Gabriel, whatever his name is – stayed behind at the warehouse. Anyone care to comment how that piece of information got lost along the way?"

"We weren't exactly thinking about that at the time, all right?" Peter bit back angrily. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to be burned alive? Do you? If Claire hadn't been there – I'd still be burning. And then what did we do after that? We came to _warn you_. If it wasn't for us you'd all be dead!" It wasn't the blind rage in his tone that Claire was startled at though, it was the slight red glow that emanated from his eyes that had her concerned.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one to notice. Nathan's eyes widened and he backed away from his younger brother. "Okay settle down Pete, we're not saying you and Claire didn't do everything you could." Nathan glanced surreptitiously at Claire, a question in his eyes. "I guess everyone's just wanting to get all the facts straight that we have the chance."

Peter was breathing heavily, far too heavily. Claire could sense that whatever exertion he was putting himself through, it didn't just involve holding his anger in check. It was holding everything within him in control.

"This isn't helping." She stepped forward, her tone leaving no one in doubt of its finality. "These people coming after us – they're after something. Even Sylar wanted them stopped, doesn't that tell you anything? We need to find out more about them, what they really want with us. It's the only way to save ourselves."

"Claire's right." She was grateful for Niki's support. "Who knows how many of those people they can send after us. It's not safe for any of us – including our boys – with those people on the loose. We can't take on both Sylar and these guys. We need to make a choice and right now, I vote for the bastards that ripped my house to shreds."

"I'm with Niki on this one." Ando spoke up quietly, glancing around the room. "And if what he told Peter and Claire's true – he'd probably be after them too. Tracking them could lead us to Sylar."

"I concur." Mohinder gave Claire a tiny smile, showing that he hadn't minded at all about her irritated attack earlier. She gave him a sheepish grin despite her anxiety. "What we need is information."

"Isaac's paintings." Hiro reminded them. "They've always given us some clues. We need to consult with them, see what they tell us."

"Great." Nathan piped up sarcastically. "They're back at my apartment."

* * *

They arrived at Nathan's apartment after the security for Heidi, his children and mother had been arranged to his satisfaction. As far as Claire could tell, Nathan's concern for his family was only pacified by arranging lots and lots burly security types who wouldn't be out of place at a pro-wrestling match. Nathan had offered to let Micah stay with his family but Niki and DL had decided to take their son along. "I feel better knowing he's with me." Niki had firmly said. 

Nathan's keys jangled loudly in the stillness of his Upper West Side apartment. As the others fanned out to locate where Isaac had left his paintings, Nathan took the opportunity to yank Claire aside. "What the hell's going on with Peter?" He whispered roughly. "What happened back there at my house?"

Her reply was hurried, uneven. Knowing his fragile state, she didn't want Peter to think they were conspiring against him. "I don't know." Nathan wasn't exact the most soothing of presences, but at least with him she was able to confide her concern for Peter. He was probably the only other person that could've understood the extent of the change in Peter's personality lately. "There's something going on with him, sometimes it's like – he's coming apart at the seams." She was voicing what had been plaguing her since Peter had told her about the darkness fermenting inside him. "When we found Isaac, it was like –" Her fear was so tangible it made her voice catch at her throat.

"Like what?" Nathan urged.

"Like …" Try as she might, she just couldn't put it into words. "He was going to go back in time and try to save Isaac. Hiro stopped him but – for a while it looked like, I mean, Hiro drew his sword. Like he was about to –"

"Stop Peter with any means possible." Claire nodded. "And we both know who's the more rational of the two. Hiro wouldn't have done that if he didn't think it was necessary." Claire agreed wholeheartedly. "Look, you know my brother better than anyone. Do you think there's a chance –"

"Peter wouldn't hurt anyone, you know that." Claire had her doubts about a lot of things, but one thing she was certain of was that Peter was still the man she loved – the man who was the most gentle, caring soul in the world. He would kill himself a thousand times over to save the world rather than endangering others.

"He wouldn't _intentionally _hurt anyone." Nathan concluded shrewdly, his legal training coming to the fore. "I had a front row seat when he and Sylar duked it out the last time and it wasn't a pretty sight. Hell you had to stab him with Hiro's sword. If he loses control –"

"He won't."

"_If _he loses control, we're going to have a third huge problem on our hands. We're having a tough time handling the first two as it is."

"He won't." Claire repeated, with more force this time.

They stopped abruptly when Peter walked up to them. "You should stop whispering." He stuck his hands in his pockets calmly. "I can read your thoughts from a mile away."

Far from looking ashamed at talking about him behind his back, Nathan straightened, his dark eyes flashing. "Then you know how worried we are."

The answering flash in Peter's dark eyes was flinty, but when he spoke, his tone was steady. "I know. I'm worried too. I'm … feeling a little uneven."

"Do you think you're a danger to us?"

"Maybe. Do you want to bench me, is that it? I'd understand if you did."

"No, Peter's not going anywhere. We need him." Claire said firmly, clutching his arm for good measure. "Peter's not going anywhere."

"That's nice and all, but that doesn't give us a whole lot of comfort."

"Nathan, we need him." Claire replied crisply. "No one else has his powers. We need Peter to be there with us whatever happens."

Nathan shot her a doubtful look but before he could say anything else they were interrupted by DL calling out from Nathan's living room. "Guys, are you going to look at these paintings or what?"

Claire was the last one to enter the room and so she was also the last to see all of Isaac's last paintings, lined up neatly in a row by the fireplace. The six panels that he had shown them earlier at their last gathering was plain to see, but it was the last one – the seventh one – that caught Claire's eye.

She had never seen it before but she instantly recognised it as one of Isaac's dreamier pieces. It looked like it was framed in mist, ethereal. Like a glimpse of a vision of a dream, untouched by the harsh light of reality.

The centre showed two figures against a backdrop of creamy night – a man and a woman, sitting on a bench at the edge of a park. Their faces were happy, deep in animated conversation, open and clearly in love. The woman had golden hair that cascaded down her shoulders, dressed in casual t-shirt and jeans. The man was dark eyed, dressed in an elegant suit, finely tailored but his shirt messed up enough just for his playful nature to peek through.

The feeling, the scene felt faintly familiar to her – and then it clicked. It was a painting of Peter and Claire, together, of that night when they had first kissed.

A note was clipped to the edge of the painting, scrawled in Isaac's untidy hand. Sensing the note was a deeply personal one, Ando unclipped it and handed it to Claire silently, his eyes respectful.

"Peter, look." She reached instinctively to pull Peter aside and they read Isaac's last words together.

_"Peter and Claire,_

_This was supposed to have been a wedding present or something, but I guess I'm not going to have that chance now. So you're getting it early._

_Claire, remember at the diner I said I already knew about you guys because I'd painted it? Well, this is it. As I said, it's definitely one of my better pieces._

_Peter, I know we've had our differences – Simone being one of them – but I'm proud to have called you my friend._

_You guys take care of each other, and the others too. Don't worry about me, I'm looking forward to seeing Simone again._

_Isaac."_

The tension between Peter and Claire evaporated like mist in the early morning sun. Through her tears, she looked down only to find Peter's hand entwined with hers as they stared in awe at the painting, a past vision of their perfect happiness, a haunting reminder of lighter times.

Claire was blown away by Isaac's selflessness. How incredible was it that, even with the knowledge that every second that ticked by brought him closer to his death, he had been able to spare a thought for her and Peter? Peter, who he'd had his differences with, but who in the end he had thought of almost like a brother?

Isaac and Claire had never been close. She had never understood the way he worked, the way he thought. His mind and soul had been a painter's mind and soul. He had seen things in a way that was completely different to how others saw the world; his was a world that consisted entirely of ethereal, intangible things. Thoughts, feelings, colours, emotions. They had always depended on him to paint the future, alert them to new crises, but when the time came for action, he'd always distance himself. Step away from them, almost as if he was aware that should any of them die, it would be on his head.

Claire had never understood that, until now. She realised that at the back of her mind she had secretly never understood Isaac's desire to hang back, away from the action. Where was the satisfaction of staying in your apartment while others risked their lives to save the world?

But now she understood. Isaac knew that everyone had a role to play, a task to bring to fruition. He had recognised before any of them what his role in their tight knit community had been. Instead of being action shy, Isaac had shown himself to be a true hero.

"It's beautiful." Peter sounded as awestruck as she was. "It's –"

"I know. It's of us – that night."

"When the world opened up for me." Peter mused, his eyes suspiciously wet. "There was light at the end of the tunnel."

Instead of probing him about what that meant, her attention was caught by Mohinder's feverish gestures. The others had decently drifted away to leave the two of them to contemplate Isaac's gift, but it appeared that they had made a discovery.

"What is it?" Peter's hands were still around her, and despite their solemnity, his touch infused her with a fresh feeling of warmth.

"Look. The first painting." Claire remembered seeing it. It showed Sylar calmly walking away from a burning warehouse. But what she hadn't remembered seeing – and what she probably hadn't even noticed, was that there were two silhouettes in the distance framed by the angry licking of flame, crawling away from the inferno.

She gave Peter a surprised look. "That looks like –"

"Yeah." He nodded grimly, pointing at the silhouettes for the others' benefit. "That's us. Me and Claire, escaping from some of those guys that came after us."

"Yes." Mohinder gestured frantically. "After you told me about that, I remembered seeing this. We thought – we _all _thought –" He cautioned Nathan and DL, knowing them well enough to know that recriminations were the first things that would pop into their minds. "We all thought it was of Sylar escaping from the research facility where he'd been held."

"But if this is Sylar escaping from the warehouse …" Ando speculated. "Doesn't that mean that Sylar is definitely alive?"

"Which makes it a hell of a lot more likely that he killed Isaac." Nathan finished.

"That's it." Niki always cracked her knuckles when she was spoiling for a fight. "This guy's getting one hell of a beating whether he wants it or not. He killed one of my friends, that's not something I'm ever going to forget."

"Niki's got a point there." DL boomed, his stare penetrating. "How the hell did Sylar showing up not factor into anything? We're running for our lives, getting ambushed. Who's to say Sylar hasn't been in on it all along? He brought them to you, and you brought them to us."

"We're back to accusing us again?" Claire asked defensively, crossing her arms.

"No one's accusing anyone." Nathan said calmly, emulating her gesture. "We're just trying to get to the bottom of everything."

"We _told _you." It was hard to restrain her frustration. She and Peter – especially Peter – had suffered and risked so much in the last 24 hours. They shouldn't have to face a virtual firing squad from their own friends. "It was kind of hard to concentrate what with being _burned alive _and all. What did you expect us to do? We did everything we could!"

"But you don't feel pain." Nathan retaliated coldly, looking from her Peter, who frowned angrily in response. "Look, all I know is that these guys somehow found us. Right after Sylar found you. That's circumstantial evidence, but it's still evidence."

"It doesn't quite make sense though." Claire glanced at Hiro gratefully, glad that not everyone seemed to think that she and Peter was somehow at fault. "Peter said after the attack, he and Claire had to take a while to recover. They raced to your house where you contacted me, then I teleported Ando and Mohinder. Peter and Claire went to Niki and DL, finding them under attack." He began pacing, everyone's eyes following him with every stride. "Everything happened on the same night. If I was a general, that's the way I would have planned it. A coordinated assault, giving my enemy no time to recover."

"Precisely my point." Nathan interrupted. "That kind of coordination – that can't be a coincidence. I a Marine, this is a classic ambush tactic. They sent those guys after Niki and DL, and Sylar was meant to distract you two … while the whole time, Isaac was their target." He looked pointedly at them. "Unfortunately for us, you took the bait."

This infuriated Claire, but it didn't compare with the explosive rage that coloured Peter's features. It looked like he'd finally had enough and his remaining control snapped. "What the HELL are you trying to say, Nathan? _I'm _responsible for Isaac's death? Is that it? Why don't you have the balls to say it to my face? Come on, tough guy. Say it to my face."

Claire laid a restraining arm on him but he shrugged her off. "You've never had a problem telling me what a loser I was. No career prospects, friends never good enough, never had any money, too dreamy. Too clingy, too close to mom. Admit it, you think I'm useless! I might as well have murdered Isaac myself, that's what you want to say?"

"Peter, of course that's not what I –"

"It's too late Nathan." Suddenly his voice cooled. "The damage's done. You're right. I'm no good to you or anyone here." Nathan stared, momentarily caught off guard. He had no idea what Peter was about to do. Claire saw it a fraction of a second before it happened. "I'm going to fix this Nathan." Claire ran forward to grab hold of him, but she was a millisecond too late. "Fix it for all of us."

And with that he disappeared.

There was an immediate uproar, none of which Claire noticed. It was like her heart had stopped beating momentarily; her ever present connection to Peter snapped with the blink of an eye.

"What the hell?" Nathan looked as shocked and unsettled as she was. "Where the hell did he go?"

"Maybe to fix what he couldn't the first time." Hiro suggested softly, absently reaching for his sword as he threw a deliberate glance at Claire. "You saw what happened at Isaac's apartment."

"He's going to fix it any way he could." Ando continued.

"What you guys think that Peter would be stupid enough to –" Nathan looked incredulously between Hiro and Ando, then at Claire. "He teleported back in time to save Isaac?! Of all the stupid, self-absorbed, impulsive things –" He ranted for a while and issued a string of expletives so violent it made everyone wince with the exception of Niki and DL. Niki did however, prudently cover Micah's ears.

"That's not going to help us Nathan." Mohinder rebuked quietly. "What we need is help. More help. We're not just dealing with Sylar and a rogue organisation now. We've also got Peter to deal with. Reigning him in – we need to get Matt and Audrey down here, and the West Coast network. We need Hana to get to touch with everyone else."

"He doesn't know how much damage he could do with my power." Hiro acknowledged grimly. "If he isn't careful, he could cause a rip in space time. Nothing we do then is going to matter, the world will be destroyed."

"What we need is Hana to get Claude back here. I don't care if he's sunning himself in Ibiza, he has to himself back here. Even if we managed to catch up to Peter he'll need to be talked down, contained." He muttered sharply. "And the guy chose _now _to take a sabbatical? Jesus Christ."

"I'll go after Peter." Hiro stepped forward, sword ready. "I have a good idea when he's headed for. I'll find him."

"But what then?" Mohinder queried, blocking his path as he did so. "You're no match for his other powers. He may try to stop you."

"I'm prepared for that."

"What're you going to do?" Niki asked, concerned. "Mohinder's right, you're no match for him."

"I'll do whatever it takes." Hiro stared bleakly at his sword, the flash of steel potent in the sunlight. No one seemed to disagree with him, except Claire.

"Wait, you aren't going to help Peter?" Why did it seem that only Claire gave a damn what happened to him? These people were his closest friends and in many ways, surrogate family. All the times he'd saved them with his powers and this – this was their way to repay that? By abandoning all hope in his humanity and killing him if necessary? Her blood boiled in her veins. "That's it? You're just going to use that sword and everything's going to be okay? He's your _friend_." She looked wildly around at them, losing control of her emotions for the first time. "He's saved you – all of you – over and over and this, this is how you're going to save _him_? And you." She stared at Nathan accusingly. "He's your brother, your family. How can you –?"

"No one's killing anyone." Nathan caught her wildly gesticulating hands in his, looking deep into her eyes. "Trust me. Peter's not going to get hurt. No one wants that. Do we?"

She was far from being pacified, jerking out of his grasp. "Let go of me."

"We all want what's best for him sweetie." Niki intervened smoothly, her eyes darkening slightly. "You used Hiro's sword on him once too. You didn't want to kill him then, did you? Hiro's only going to use it if he has to."

"That's right Claire. You have my word, Peter will not be harmed unless absolutely necessary."

"Absolutely necessary." Claire parroted bitterly. "It's _always _necessary."

"Okay that's it, this isn't helping." Nathan stepped in, fed up with their arguing. "Mohinder, while Hiro's gone we need you to do some digging through your old notes, see if we can predict who Sylar's going after next."

"I will help with that." Nathan nodded at Ando's offer.

"And you my man." Nathan walked up to Micah, bending slightly to address the growing boy. "You need to hop on the nearest computer and get in touch with Hana for us. Tell her to alert everyone we know about the situation. And tell her to also find Claude and get him the hell back here. The rest of us will try to find a way to stop these guys coming after us." He looked around, his gaze landing sharply on Claire. "Satisfied?"

Hardly. But what could she do? Everyone seemed to be against her, and to be honest she didn't really know what she wanted to do. All she knew was that finding Peter was her first and only priority, which clearly wasn't the case for everyone else. It probably made her a selfish person, but she hadn't been through so much with Peter just for it to disintegrate like a puff of smoke at the first – or second, or was it a millionth – time of crisis.

As soon as Hiro teleported back to the past, the others started filing out of Nathan's apartment. Only Claire hung back, uncertain. An unsettled feeling had descended in the pit of her stomach, only felt now as the room was clearing. There was something not quite right here, something off.

Nathan's apartment was usually pristine, cold, calculating grandeur, just like it's owner. But now – it felt … It felt warm. Like sunshine falling onto smooth skin on a clear summer's day, blue skies, lush green valleys and trickling brooks of crystal water flowing through paradise.

Suddenly Claire knew what it was, and what she must do. She feigned a smile at Nathan, who was the last to leave. "Do you mind if I stay here a while?" She kept her voice low and even. "I have to decide what to do."

"Sure." There was a beat as he scrutinised her. "Knock yourself out. I know … look, I know Peter doing this Houdini thing's probably got you bent out of shape most of all." He squeezed her shoulders gently, looking intently at her. "But we'll find him, get him some help. We're his family, we won't let him go it alone."

"Thanks." She stared after the closing door, her eyes thoughtful.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve **

"**Choices We Leave Behind"**

As soon as the door closed behind Nathan, Claire spun around. "Peter, I know you're there." She repeated more firmly this time. "This is me, remember? I know you're there, I can feel you. So stop hiding from me."

Peter shuddered. He was so close to her and his entire body tingled with the knowledge. He imagined it was equally as obvious to her that he was near.

He breathed faintly against her ear, no more than a slight brush but he was sure she felt it. Just because her eyes were fooled, didn't mean the rest of her senses were too.

There was a pregnant pause before Peter reappeared, looking sheepish and chagrined at the same time. Claire strode to him and before he could react, punched him squarely in the face – he suspected just as Niki had taught her. "Don't you _ever _do that to me ever again." Before he regained his balance, she flung herself into his arms and hugged him tightly. "Oh my god Peter, you scared me. You scared me so much."

Her anger, fear and longing was such a heady, potent mix of emotions, it swayed him into relaxation. He allowed himself to absorb her calming presence like a balm to his frayed nerves. "Claire, you shouldn't be here." He whispered in anguish.

"And why the hell not?" Peter winced at her harshness. Maybe Claire spending time with Nathan hadn't been such a good idea.

"Because … you know why."

"You're being stupid." It was like her rage was actually making her more, not less rational. "You didn't actually think you'd fool me, did you? You may have tricked the others into believing you'd teleported back to save Isaac, but I know you."

Despite knowing that it was Claire he was talking to, the darkness swelled in him and he sneered. "If you know me so well, what am I planning?"

But instead of being hurt, she straightened, her eyes shooting furious green sparks. "You're planning on going after those bastards and maybe skewering Sylar into the bargain. You feel like it's completely your fault that Isaac died because you trusted Sylar even though I was _right there with you_. You always think everything's your fault, because you're Peter Petrelli, and you're superman and it's your destiny and fate to save every damn person on the face of this planet and anyone that dies under your watch is your fault."

Damn, she really did know Peter better than anyone else, maybe including himself. "Then you know why I have to do this."

"I know. You're an ass with a capital ASS. But I'm going with you whether you like it or not." She repeated stubbornly, hands on hips.

"Like hell you are." He softened then, cupping her face in his hands. "It's too dangerous. I can't risk you being around me. You don't know what I'm capable of."

Her voice wavered. It seemed to Peter like her heart suddenly remembered who she him she was talking to. "We've done worst things."

"Yeah." There was a beat before Peter brushed her lips softly against his. "But this time _I'm _the danger. I won't risk you getting hurt because of me. I won't risk me hurting you anymore than I already have."

"Isn't that my choice to make?" Claire retaliated softly, looking up at him through lustrous lashes. "We've always done everything together." She paused, then shot her last round of ammunition. "Don't you trust me anymore?"

Of course he trusted her, trusted her with his life. Just as he had done from the first day they met and he had a feeling, to his last dying breath whenever that may be. Peter just couldn't say no to the pleading softness in her eyes. "Okay." He whispered brokenly, and for a moment relief breached the barrier of anger that had been erected around him, flooding onto his features. "Of course I trust you. Always."

He held her against him tightly, afraid to let her go. Her heart beat steadily against his body and its calm rhythm somehow melded with his to settle the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. However irrational it was, Peter couldn't help but feel that everything would be all right as long as Claire was there to anchor him to reality. A reality where Peter was the good guy, fighting the good fight, helping the helpless and saving the world. Not running from his friends, afraid of unleashing a darkness onto the world the likes of which it would never recover from.

She looked up at him with watery eyes, deep and compassionate. How was it possible that she was only 20 years old? The soul that looked up at him seemed so much older, wiser. "Peter, are you okay?"

He wanted to reassure her, say that everything was fine. But the words lodged in his throat bitterly and he was only just able to croak out. "I hope so."

* * *

After sitting together in the incongruously steady stillness of the empty apartment, staring at the last paintings by Isaac Mendez, Peter and Claire were able to form a plan. After arguing about whether to contact Nathan and the others – and no prizes for guessing who wanted to actually contact his brother and who had stubbornly refused – they had finally agreed to a compromise. In return for Claire not contacting Nathan or the others, she extracted a promise from Peter to not leave her behind again. 

"There must be something here." Peter stared at the paintings intently, refusing to believe that they had made full use of them. He couldn't believe – or didn't want to believe – that Isaac's last paintings didn't hold more meaning. Because that somehow translated into Isaac's last moments not having any meaning, which was a crazy notion but one which refused to leave Peter. "These ones." Claire stepped to his side and stared at the paintings Peter was indicating. "These ones haven't happened yet."

Claire peered at the fourth and fifth paintings. In one, Hiro was defending Mohinder and Ando against something, but the painting didn't reveal who or what. The other showed Nathan, Niki and DL poised for a fight against two dark silhouettes, Micah and Nathan's two boys in the background crouching behind their parents in fear. Claire gave a tiny gasp. "Peter, look at what they're wearing. Micah and Nathan and the others."

Peter couldn't believe he hadn't seen it, it was so obvious. "They're all wearing what they were wearing this morning. Just then."

That could only mean one thing. Whatever was about to happen, whatever attack his family and friends were about to face would happen soon. They were faced with a heart breaking choice. "We should warn them." Peter said quietly, not quite saying it with conviction.

"Should we?" Peter did a double take. For the last few hours, it had been Peter on the offence and Claire wanting to protect everyone at all costs. Off his stunned look, she elaborated. "I mean, we have to think about this, think about the big picture. We've already fallen for their first plan. Remember how Nathan said they attacked all of us in a, um –"

"Coordinated assault." Peter supplied quietly.

"A coordinated assault, and while we were all busy and distracted, they went after who they really wanted – Isaac."

"Right." His admiration for Claire skyrocketed. Not only was she beautiful, she was also showing her keen intelligence. It wasn't possible for Peter to love her any more than he did at that moment. "They could do a similar thing this time. We have to think about this."

"Peter, I know you don't want to, but –"

"We should let Nathan know?" Peter smiled wryly. "I was thinking the same thing. Only – just don't tell him where I am."

Claire stared at him for a long moment, clearly torn between arguing with Peter about his decision and taking advantage of his momentary calmness to contact Nathan for the greater good. Her fierce loyalty to her friends won out and she dialled Nathan's number, quickly relaying their information to him.

Peter wandered listlessly around the apartment, staring at all the changes his brother had made since he'd last been here. Their dad had bought the place when he had first started working for Linderman, where he'd had to stay in the city sometimes to "take care of business". Peter hadn't known the true meaning of his father 'taking care of business' until he'd reached his late teens and had naively never contemplated that the phrase had really been a euphemism for shady dealings until much later. Being a dreamer did have its downsides.

It had been years since he had ceased to think of his father as an all knowing hero, a hero worthy of emulation. Looking back, he couldn't believe he had ever missed the signs of his father's depression. All he had seen was someone who had wholly disapproved, had even enjoyed raining contempt down on his beleaguered youngest son.

There had been occasional flashes of connection. Often in his father's reflective moods he'd be content to just sit with Peter, talk to him like an equal. Asking him probing questions about life, the universe and everything, even though Peter at the time had been much too young to know much about anything. Add to that his mother's memories of the two of them together, when Peter had been a young boy, sitting on his father's knee. How Peter had instinctively known when his father was feeling down, going to him when he needed a connection he could hold on to.

Peter didn't remember any of that. Perhaps his mother and Nathan had been right. Peter was a man who only saw what he wanted to see, and he had wanted to see his father as the bad guy in his life. Someone to blame for Peter's own shortcomings.

"Peter?" His thoughts drifted back to find Claire staring up at him with a worried expression. She hid it well, but her concern over his mental state was well warranted. Had he inadvertently inherited a genetic disposition for mental instability? In which case, had it really been such a fortuitous thing for him to have developed his abilities? In a more stable personality, his abilities may have made him Superman. But who knew what Peter's own innate fragility would eventually make him into? "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Peter swallowed back his irritation. If he had one more person asking him whether he was okay, he would explode, literally.

She leaned against him, instinctively knowing that physical contact was enough to soothe his temper. "I'm sorry." She apologised even though they both probably knew it wasn't her who should be apologising. "I'm worried about you. About all of us. These people –" Peter shushed her, cradling her against him. "I don't think they'll ever stop. We have to stop them but we have no idea where to start."

Her helplessness made him angry. Claire shouldn't ever have to feel this way.

It was time to take a stand, put his abilities to good use. There would always be a danger of him getting out of hand, but they had run out of options. "I've got an idea."

And with that, he melted them out of Nathan's apartment.

The next instant, they were standing outside the entrance of Odessa General. As Claire disentangled herself from Peter's arms, she cast a confused glance around them. "We're in Odessa. Why?"

"We're going to see your father." He looked down at her, determination in his eyes. Lacing his fingers through hers, he led them into the hospital, striding confidently past the reception.

"Peter … my dad's in a coma."

"I know." They continued walking to the elevator.

"Then …?"

"I'm going to try reading his mind." Peter said calmly, as if that was an everyday occurrence.

He wasn't sure it would work and he sure as hell had never tried to read the mind of a person in a coma before. But Peter believed his empathy allowed him to connect to people even when they weren't in a fully conscious state. He believed this was the reason why he'd been able to connect with Charles Devaux on the night of his death, talking to the kindly old man in his dreams just before his passing. He didn't know whether that was just an extremely lucid dream, but he chose to believe it was his ability that allowed him to reach through that veil of consciousness to say goodbye.

That was all there was in the end. Faith and destiny and a belief that they were all doing things that had been preordained for them from the beginning.

"Can you do that?" Claire asked quietly, her eyes searching.

Peter shrugged. "Not sure. I'd like to try though. You said it yourself, we have no idea where to start. But from what you told me, it sounded your dad did. Besides, the only other person I know that'd have some idea is Sylar, and I'm not sure whether getting information out of him will be my first priority when we next meet."

They were walking down a green coloured hallway whose shade could only be described as mildly putrid. Claire glanced at him quizzically. "How do you know where you're going?"

"I read the nurse's mind, the one at reception. I'm familiar with hospitals and I knew exactly what information to look for."

"Oh. I thought you would've read –"

"No." Peter said firmly, stopping abruptly in his tracks. "I wouldn't do that Claire. I wouldn't read your mind without you knowing."

"I know." She said a tad defensively, her eyes downcast. Peter didn't need his empathy to tell him that she felt guilt for even suspecting it.

"It's okay." He stepped and gave her a light kiss. "I appreciate you asking."

He was about to walk off again but she grabbed his arm. "It's just – Peter, back in Nathan's apartment? Back at Isaac's? Those two guys you –" She couldn't bring herself to say it. "You know I'm not scared of you. But I am scared of what those powers could do to you." She bit her lip, and Peter was keenly aware that there was something she was withholding.

It was just a fleeting thought, a whisper of a feeling but he caught it all the same. "Claire …" He was so shocked he didn't even try to hide it from her. "You don't feel guilty for any of that, do you? What's happening to me … it's not your fault. It can never be your fault." Peter didn't know how else to emphasise it.

"It's just … I can't believe I totally missed it. You're my best friend, we spend so much time together and I didn't even notice until it was too late!"

"Hey." He leaned in until their foreheads were touching. Somehow the gesture felt more intimate than a kiss. "Whatever happens, I love you. You know that forever, don't you?"

He felt her nodding, but heard her voice break at the same time. "I can't lose you Peter." She confessed, and suddenly Peter understood what was plaguing her. "I've lost my entire family and I can't lose you. I just can't."

"You won't." Peter didn't want to promise her or do anything close to the sort, because in all honesty he didn't know whether he'd be capable of coming good on any such promise. But he was willing to try his hardest to make sure Claire wasn't hurt more than she was already hurting. He spoke in a low, comforting whisper, hoping to bring her out of her personal darkness. "We'll look after each other, okay? Because I can't lose you either."

They stood silently as medical personnel rushed around them, but Peter hardly noticed with Claire securely in his arms. At long last they unravelled from each other, Peter abashed at the sentimentality at a time like this. But it had been necessary to assure both Claire and himself that all of this wasn't in vain. They had lost Isaac, but they wouldn't be losing anyone else, not on his watch. "Ready to see your dad?" He asked softly, searching her for signs of strain.

Being Claire, she seemed to be emotionally bullet proof. She reigned her shakiness in until her face was a mask of calmness once more. Peter never ceased to marvel at her ability to do that.

When they tread with light footsteps into Mr Bennet's private room, Peter heard Claire gasp from shock despite herself. Even with the blinds fully drawn, it was easy to make out the mass of tubing that ran from the man's prostrate body, a body that looked frail and broken. Although Peter hadn't known the man in any personal capacity, he still found the change shocking. He couldn't even begin to guess what it would have felt like for Claire.

Not wanting to expose Claire to seeing her father like this for longer than he had to, Peter quickly pulled a chair and settled by the man's side. He glanced once at Claire who nodded, before rounding the bed to take her dad's other hand.

Peter didn't know whether physical contact was necessary, but it couldn't hurt. He closed his eyes, trying to settle his mind like Claude had taught him. It took a few minutes of concentration to get his mind into any sort of state resembling calmness, so agitated had the last couple of days made him. Peter kept on waiting for Claire to ask whether it was working, but their intimacy with each other made her hang back and wait. Peter was glad, because it wasn't possible for her to put any more pressure on himself than he was already putting himself.

Usually reading another person's mind was easy. What was more difficult was to switch it off, to block out thoughts. It was almost as if once open, the gateway that separated other people's minds from Peter's was an open thoroughfare, with everyone and his dog able to stroll past with no difficulty.

But this was different. Claire's dad was in a coma and theoretically his consciousness was buried somewhere deep inside his brain. Peter tried dredging up rudimentary understanding from his days at nursing school, but only managed to recall from his textbooks that a person in a coma was considered to be in a profound state of unconsciousness. Obviously no one, as far as Peter knew, had had direct contact with anyone in a coma before, but he was going to try.

He mustered his concentration, directed all his energy into this one task. _"Hello?" _He said stupidly inside his head.

There was no response. Peter tried once more, and another time after that, with similar non-results. This was getting them nowhere. He expelled his frustration and opened his eyes to find it meeting Claire's anxious ones. "It's not working, is it?"

Peter shook his head, unwilling to give up. Not least because Claire's dad was probably their only chance of getting a jump on the organisation that was dogging them, but also the disappointment and vulnerability on Claire's face prompted him to just try harder. He could do this. He _had _to do it.

He looked up suddenly, his dark eyes boring into hers. "Claire, say something to your dad." As a hospice nurse, he'd always believed – correction, always _felt _– that people close to death were hypersensitive to their loved ones. That even though they had lost the ability to directly communicate with them, they were still tied to them by the bonds that counted.

Instead of looking at him like he'd lost the remnants of his marbles, Claire whispered into her father's ear. Peter pretended to not notice the despair in her eyes, the hopelessness in her voice. "Dad, it's me Claire. Can you hear me?" She glanced up and Peter nodded for her to continue. He closed his eyes, gathering his concentration, ready to exploit any opening. "We need your help Dad. I … Peter's here. You know what he can do. We need your help. These guys you worked for, we think they're coming after us now. Sylar too." Her voice broke, and distantly Peter heard faint sounds of sobbing. He wanted so badly comfort her but feared he'd lose the opportunity to connect.

"_Tell her it's okay. Everything's going to be okay." _The voice that rang in his mind was soft, calm … fatherly.

"_Mr Bennet?" _

The other man chuckled. _"I think you can drop the formality at this stage in the game Peter. I'm glad you two finally came. I wanted to tell Claire so much before I – well, you know." _

"_I know." _Peter felt slightly odd. It was like he had one foot planted in reality and the other in god only knew where. But neither reality felt entirely concrete to him. _"I'll tell her now." _He opened his eyes then and found Claire looking at him expectantly. "Your father says everything's going to be okay."

A tiny gasp escaped her, and she looked intently into her father's still form. "You can read his thoughts?" Peter nodded, hating to see the hope dawning on her golden face. He was scared that it could all come crashing down. "Can you tell him how much I love him? How much I'll always love him, despite … everything that's happened?"

Responding to this request made him feel like some sort of psychic which, technically, he actually was. _"Did you hear that?"_

"_Yes. I think it's a strictly one way street." _Now that he'd been able to read the other man's mind, it was easier for Peter to switch focus from Claire to her father. He looked at Claire, a crooked smile on his face. "Your dad can hear everything we say. It's a one way street, it's just we can't hear him."

Claire nodded, waiting for Peter to continue.

"_What can you tell me about these people coming after us?" _

"_That's what I wanted to tell Claire. They enhanced Sylar's abilities, made him more powerful."_

"_Sylar told us all this." _Peter paused, unwilling to voice his thoughts. Which were slightly ludicrous as technically, their entire conversation consisted of nothing but thoughts. _"We think he killed Isaac Mendez. But he saved us from the warehouse fire. I – I don't know what to think."_

Peter got the feeling that if Claire's dad could nod, he would. _"That's what I was afraid of. I tried to see Sylar just before he escaped, see whether he knew anything. He'd been behaving oddly, out of character. Behaving more like the personality we know as Gabriel Gray." _

"_That's what he called himself when we – when we saw him. Said he used to be him." _It was strange to think that when the man had been conscious, Peter had found it easy to blame him for his actions. For arranging to wipe the memories of Claire's family just to keep his and Claire's secrets safe. But now that he was able to see into the man's mind, his entire life, he saw not everything was as black and white as good and evil. His love for Claire and his family was undeniable. In fact, everything he had ever done, had been done with his family at the forefront of his mind at all times.

"_He did. Look, there isn't much time and I need you and Claire to know what I know. Someone has to stop him before it's too late." _

"_Who?" _

There was a pause, as if the recollection was painful. _"For years, I've always worked believing we were protecting people from … people like you. People are fragile. Not everyone would've been able to handle knowing about people with abilities. And you know as well as I do that not everyone with abilities choose to use them wisely." _

"_So what are you saying?" _

"_I'm saying the organisation I worked for, I thought, that's what they wanted. To bookmark and encourage evolution, not harness and exploit it."_

"_How are they –"_

"_If you talked to Sylar he must've told you. They're developing people with abilities. Fusing their genes with genes that give rise to other abilities. The process – it's got one side effect, a side effect I think you're well aware of." _

Peter felt himself nodding but then remembered that Claire's father couldn't actually see it. "_It makes you crazy?" _He blurted, unable to keep the sarcasm from his thoughts.

"_Putting it simply, yes. Studying Sylar for the last three years confirmed that. We tried to overcome it, but so far no one's been able to. The scientists think it's got something to do with the psychology of the human brain."_

"_So why create these people then? What's the use of having raving psychotics doing your dirty work?" _

"_It makes them crazy, not stupid." _Mr Bennet rebuked mildly. _"They're more than capable of doing our dirty work. In fact, their psychosis makes them the perfect candidates. No conscience. No remorse. That's their end game Peter. That's what our organisation's been about all along." _

"_So … why now? I mean, why are you bringing it to us now?" _

"_I've only just become aware of it." _The other man's voice was dry and slightly bitter. _"All those years, I thought I was protecting Claire. And I still am. But it's cost me my family." _

There was nothing Peter could say to comfort the man. Peter felt his loss keenly, all the more through their mutual love for Claire. _"I'm sorry." _

"_They're gone, Claire's the only one left. That's why you have to protect her from him, protect yourself from him. I managed to destroy the only sample of Claire's DNA from their system, wipe out their central database." _

His sudden urgency perked Peter's interest. _"Protect her from whom? Sylar?"_

"_No." _There was a pause, as if the other man was shaking his head. _"The man behind our organisation. You've heard of him I think. Linderman. He's been behind it from the beginning."_


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

"**The Art of War"**

Claire was careful to not accost Peter after he emerged from his trance like connection with her dad. Peter always felt weakened after using his powers and it wouldn't do her any good to pester him. Claire knew he would tell her everything when he was ready and able.

Which he did. After he had finished relaying everything, they stared at each other across the bed, aghast. Living with the Petrellis, she had heard snippets here and there about the infamous Linderman. From the looks that usually accompanied those references, Claire had gathered pretty quickly that Linderman wasn't a person she'd want to meet any time in the near future. Niki and DL's own experiences with him had been enough to confirm the Petrellis view.

But to find now that he had been the puppet master all along? That he had been right under their noses the whole time, ruining their lives? That made her furious.

"What are we going to do?" Claire demanded, looking to Peter for answers they both so desperately wanted. "We have to do something."

"I know." He seemed confused, lost, even frightened. She couldn't tell whether it was from discovering Linderman as the mastermind behind all the attacks or Claire looking to him for action, or even something else that her dad had said. It wasn't the best feeling in the world to realise that, for the moment at least, she was having trouble reading Peter.

She longed for simpler day, when they could just grab hot dogs or takeout after work and classes and just be together, enjoying each other's company. Why couldn't life always be like that? Why couldn't they live just like everyone else, without all this melodrama plaguing their lives?

But how selfish were those thoughts? Claire and Peter weren't the only ones caught in the midst of a battle they hadn't asked for, so why was she pretending that destiny or fate had imposed this burden on them and only them? Being in college had broadened Claire's horizons. She thought briefly back to her Intro to Western History class last semester that had made her realise that people – countless men and women – had died for their causes throughout history. The men and women who had fought in the second World War hadn't asked for any of the responsibility they had ultimately shouldered, but they had volunteered for it anyway. Millions of people had died in wars mostly not of their own making and what had all of that been for?

Those people – living, breathing people – had fought for what they had believed was right and good. They had fought because they wanted play their part to save the world.

Was Claire and Peter so very different from those people? For the first time, Claire saw the fight she was enmeshed in not as something that was foisted on her without consent, but one that she consciously chose to participate in. She saw with clarity that her ability to heal didn't prevent her to abstaining from the fight if she had really wanted to. It wasn't what Claire wanted to do in any case because deep down, she was a fighter. She would volunteer herself to fight to save the world.

Peter seemed to be at a complete loss as to their next move. "What do we do?" He was mumbling almost as much to himself as to her. "Linderman, he's dangerous …" He gulped. "I'm a danger."

"Peter, what are you talking about?"

He was still mumbling, his eyes unfocused, terrified. "I'll be like them. I'll be like them."

It was clear her dad had told Peter something, bad enough to alarm him. She wanted so badly to find out what had been said, but now didn't seem the time. "We need to tell the others right away." Claire blurted as a way to snap Peter out of his growing hysteria. She and the others needed Peter to function properly right now and not lose what appeared to be his increasingly fragile grasp on reality.

It was odd how the dynamics of their little circle worked. It was tacitly accepted that Peter was the leader for situations like the current one. Even Nathan deferred to his younger brother, as a nod to Peter's superior ability. Nathan however, was the acknowledged leader for everything else and if pushed Claire would have categorised this as 'everything else.'

Peter nodded and Claire made the phone call to Nathan. Unfortunately, he didn't answer. She tried everyone else's phone in quick succession but had no luck. With each passing voicemail message her fears grew. "No one's answering." She glanced at Peter grimly. At least Claire's gambit had worked as she saw Peter returning to normality, enough to reach across her father's body to squeeze her hand. "I don't think this is good."

"Maybe … maybe I should teleport us back to Nathan's, see that everything's okay?"

Peter and Claire had been so absorbed in their conversation they failed to notice that a shadow had melted into the room. Claire only just had enough time to gasp as Sylar noiselessly appeared behind Peter.

"Hello again." He greeted them calmly. With Isaac's murder still fresh in their minds, Peter lunged straight for Sylar, grabbing his neck and hauling him off his feet.

"You killed Isaac!" Peter screamed. It was lucky – for Sylar at least – that Peter hadn't chosen or remembered to access Niki's super strength because one good squeeze would have popped Sylar's eyes right out of their sockets and severed his head from his body.

As it was, Peter squeezed until veins protruded from Sylar's neck, leaving him gasping for breath. Even then, he didn't move to defend himself, something Claire could tell intrigued Peter. It seemed to be the inaction of an innocent man. But then again knowing Sylar, it could've just been a trick.

"I didn't kill Isaac Mendez." He choked out between gasps. Even knowing the possibility that Sylar hadn't killed Isaac, Claire wasn't willing to step in. He was still a murderer whether he was reformed or not.

Peter didn't look like stopping anytime soon. Judging by the malicious glint in his eyes, Claire knew that if she didn't step in soon, Sylar – or Gabriel – would be dead within seconds.

She was tempted. What more supreme poetic justice than Peter murdering Sylar in front of her comatose father? Sylar who had murdered so many in turn, now reaping the vengeance he'd so carelessly sown?

But Claire couldn't let Peter do this. She hated him for making her stop him, for standing up for what was right. Truth, justice and the American way sounded a lot like bullshit now that she had to pick up the sanity Peter had just left behind.

"Stop it Peter." She tried to wrench Peter's iron-like grip from around Sylar's neck without success. But he was too strong, too determined to see the other man suffer. She was no match for Peter's vast arsenal and as her eyes met Sylar's strangely calm ones, they both knew he was about to let himself be killed. "Stop it!" She screamed at Peter, yanking his arms down. "You can't do this. You can't be like him, stop it! Stop, now! Please, please, Peter, don't … "

In between her hysterical screaming and sobbing and the rushing of nurses that scampered into her dad's room in response to all the noise, Peter managed to snap out of feverish rage, letting Sylar fall to the floor like a ton of bricks. Claire stole a look at Peter in between painful sobs. He looked flushed, his eyes glowing with dimming fever.

"Claire?" That look had become eerily familiar to her, that look of absolute vulnerability, his features slowly being overtaken by the horror of what he had almost done. It was the same look he had given her after killing the two men yesterday and it was doing to her now what it had done to her then.

It tore her heart in two to see Peter suffering like this.

Their eyes met and Claire could sense Peter's pain, his confusion. His eyes seemed to scream silently, "What's happening to me?" All Claire wanted to do was run to him, bury herself and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. But as it was, they were stuck in a room full of nurses and doctors demanding to know what the hell was going on, a gasping Sylar that sat hunched in the corner of the room, all the while her dad's comatose form lying unaware of the tumult surrounding him.

It was pandemonium and Claire had to get Peter out of there now. Ignoring all the demands for answers, she hastily grabbed Peter's hand and guided him out of the room.

* * *

They weren't five steps outside the hospital when they both felt him looming behind them, a pestilent shadow dogging their every step. "What the hell do you want?" Peter gritted out, still pale and shaking from his loss of control.

"I …" Claire had to give it to Sylar, he sure knew how to confuse an already messed up situation. "I'm not sure."

Claire glanced around, spying a secluded area to the left of the hospital entrance. She remembered from her various visits that the gardens were used mainly by patients and their families to get away from the sterility and bleakness of the hospital. But judging by its emptiness, there weren't many people taking advantage of it. Green, vibrant, leafy and shaded, it was a perfect, out of the way place for them to continue the conversation, especially if any violence were to arise again. Which given the participants, was highly likely.

Claire jerked her head towards the garden. "Come on." She stared keenly at two sets of dead, haunted eyes, struck suddenly by their similarity. Their defeated postures, shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world was on them, the exaggerated stillness that only comes from being tightly coiled, ready for action should the need arise.

Oh god, how could she even have thought that? That Peter and Sylar were … similar? Peter was the kindest, most caring man she knew and Sylar … he was a cold, calculating vicious murderer. But both of them had killed in indiscriminate coldness. Claire had witnessed Peter doing it right in front of her.

"It's okay." Peter whispered as he gently took her hand, allowing himself to be led by her. It took Claire a while to realise that he'd just read her mind. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

If she had to be honest with herself, Peter and Sylar weren't similar as much as mirror images. She couldn't shake her trust that Peter was inherently a good person, capable of doing the wrong thing. Sylar was – she didn't know him enough to know what he inherently was and sure as hell, Claire didn't want to be in a position to find out.

The shade of the pines afforded them relief from the dry heat of the late afternoon. Seeing Sylar in the afternoon brightness somehow diminished his menace. There was nowhere to hide in the light; the sun shone into the dark crevices that people wanted kept hidden. And so it was with Sylar. As she saw him silhouetted against the vibrant greenery around them, she knew she was looking at someone who didn't quite belong in the world, disconnected and isolated from humanity.

She couldn't decide whether she pitied or hated him for it.

"Okay, now talk." Peter seemed to have partially recovered, but it didn't make Claire feel any better to see the cold glint back in his darkened eyes. She knew from experience – which wasn't exactly a good thing – that the reddish tint around his irises was usually a prelude to him unleashing some devastating facet of his ability.

And she was right. No sooner had Claire seen it, Peter casually reached into Sylar, his hand disappearing into the other man's chest. "I've got my hand around your heart. Now tell us everything or I'm yanking it out through your ribcage – slowly."

Claire was appalled. "Peter, what are you doing?" She tried wrenching his arm out, but Peter shrugged her easily away, the sheer force of it enough to send her reeling against a tree, impaling her against a low hanging branch.

She glanced at Sylar, who looked inordinately composed for someone who could die a gruesome, bloody death at any moment. God, he even seemed – serene. Like he'd made his peace with his demons and was ready for whatever came.

Claire pulled herself off the branch, watching in confusion as her skin stitched itself back together. Her world was suddenly reeling. What was happening here? More importantly, what had happened to Peter to make him so casually resort to violence even against her, someone he'd previously treated as the heart and soul of his entire existence?

This wasn't the man she'd known and Claire had no idea how to stop him. But all she could do was try. "Peter, what the hell –"

He whipped around, his voice a low growl. "Back off Claire. I need to do this."

"No you don't."

"Yes, he does." They both turned to Sylar, still composed amidst the raging of emotions. "He needs to experience it, feel it pulsate through his veins. He's always known it was there, waiting to be unleashed. It's what makes him special. Different. It's his turn to be someone now."

Peter's eyes flickered, his lips curling into contempt. "You think you know me?" The darkness in him was heartbreaking to watch. "You know what it's like, feeling the others within you? I take a piece of them every time I take their power. And you know what that feels like."

"Yes, I do." Sylar glanced down at Peter's hand still embedded in his chest, before his eyes drilled straight into Claire's. "It consumes you. If left alone, it consumes you."

Peter followed his gaze to Claire. For the first time she could remember, she found herself shrinking back from the malevolent coldness emanating from him. What was happening here? "You think she can save me?" His smile wasn't anything like the warm smile she loved. "Maybe she can." He added softly, and roughly jerked his hand out of Sylar's chest.

Claire's breath caught in her throat as she spied Peter's hand coming out of Sylar's chest – empty. Her eyes rocketed up to Sylar who, to her relief, was still a living, breathing homicidal maniac.

"Oh god, I can't control it anymore." Peter fell to his knees, staring at the hand that he'd just taken out. He looked up at Claire with beseeching, soulful eyes. "Help me."

* * *

Claire couldn't lie any more to herself now, she was panicking. Peter's breakdowns – for want of a better word – were getting more violent and frequent and she worried that the next time, even she wouldn't be unable to pull him back from the edge.

Sylar's presence wasn't really helping. She glared at the other man. Feeling her eyes bore into him, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. He nodded slightly as if understanding her thoughts, which enraged Claire even more. What did he know of her and Peter? What did he know about anything? "Why are you here?" She hissed, wanting to impale him on the branch that had impaled her earlier.

"I don't … know." His stillness broke slightly. He sounded lost. "They came after me and I almost died in that fire. I won't let that happen again."

Claire hadn't yet forgotten that she was talking to the man who only three years before had murdered Jackie, mistaking her for Claire. It was almost impossible to believe that she was talking to him now in Odessa, of all places. "Did you kill Isaac?"

"No." Claire didn't have Peter or Matt's ability to read thoughts so she had no way of knowing for sure whether he was lying. But like Peter before her, Claire however inexplicably, believed him. Sylar had been right to say that his particular brand of murder had never been underhanded. When he wanted someone's brain, he just went and got it.

So she continued to believe him for now, as incredible and as crazy as that would sound to anyone else later on. Maybe she just wanted to believe it – wanted to believe that even after committing all those atrocities, a person could come back from the chasm of insanity and do some good in the world. Maybe she wanted to believe it in case it happened to Peter. "If you didn't kill Isaac, who did?"

"It must've been _them_." The hatred placed on that word sent shivers down her spine. That was the Sylar she loathed and feared. "They knew I'd gotten to you. They know that I told you everything I knew."

"Did you send them after us?" Claire's voice was starting to waver. Everything that had happened over the course of the last few days – her family, the attacks, Isaac, Peter – was really getting to her. And now she was having a conversation with Sylar – she was barely keeping herself from falling apart at the seams.

She had to suck it up. All her life, she had been looked after, protected. It was her turn to step up now to help save others, or else who knew what would happen? All those times Peter had saved someone else's life – he had never asked for that responsibility. He had never once shirked from that even though it had burdened him with a responsibility too great for a single man to carry.

She glanced at Peter, eyes still withdrawn and arms crossed over his chest as if willing himself to implode. If Claire could take even a small fraction of that load from Peter, it would be worth it. Worth facing her fears, facing the unknown.

It was Claire Bennet's turn to save the world now.

"Let's say I believe you – for now. Everything you told us back at the warehouse – that's all you know?"

"No. There's more."

She stared at him incredulously. "And? What is it?"

His eyes skittered around, surveying the area. Did he really expect an attack right now? "It's Linderman, he's behind it all. Everything that's happened to us, from day one."

"We know." Off his surprise, she elaborated. "My dad … he told us." She kept it deliberately vague.

"Yes, your father tried to see me. It tipped them off, that he'd found out what they were doing."

Claire gritted her teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous, getting information out of Sylar was like root canal, except infinitely more painful. They didn't have time for this. "We know about this, you told us yourself. They're manipulating people's genes, infusing them with the abilities of others or whatever. Is that all?"

"Of course not." He circled them, reminding her of a shark hunting its prey. "I told you they were successful in using samples of your DNA to regenerate people. Isn't it obvious what the next step is?"

Claire looked blankly into Sylar's curiously sparkling eyes and shuddered. It was as if whatever he was about to divulge excited him in some way, which couldn't have been a good thing. "No." She glanced at Peter, whose eyes to her relief had refocused at least. "Tell us."

"Claire, they're going to make everyone invincible. Like you."

Oh god. A whole army of people with multiple abilities, all with instant healing? "How can we possibly stop them? If they already have samples of my DNA, what can we do to –?"

Sylar smirked, holding up a hand to interrupt. "Why do you think I blew up their research lab? Your father deleted all the files from their servers, every single file. I destroyed their back up facility right afterwards. They've got nothing, which is why they really, really want you. You're their Grail, Claire. We can save the world by saving you."

There it was again, that mission statement that had always been such a millstone around her neck. It was enough to yank Peter's attention from his misery and regain focus. Saving Claire was something that was familiar to him, comfortable, even if it sounded like he'd lost the rest of his marbles.

The last time she had heard 'save the cheerleader, save the world', she had been the damsel in distress. Well, not this time. Claire wasn't a cheerleader anymore and she didn't feel particularly like running for her life. She was angry that Linderman had chosen to murder innocent people and potentially destroy the world she loved so much.

If Linderman was behind all of this – and she had it from a few sources now to know that he was – then he was going down. He had seen fit to murder her mother and brother and Isaac, putting her father in a potentially fatal coma, had attacked her closest friends and reduced Peter to a wreck of his former self. That was more than enough ammunition Claire needed and for the first time in her life, she was ready.

"What are you prepared to do?" She asked Sylar bluntly, carefully scrutinising him.

"Whatever it takes." He cast a determined look at her, strangely calming the rising panic in the pit of her stomach. She knew now that the world had officially gone crazy, when Sylar was able to calm her down while Peter gave her the chills.

But whatever was coming, Claire was ready for it. She was ready for the end, the ultimate showdown. This was her battle to fight, and god help anyone that got in her way.


	15. Chapter Fourteen Part I

**Chapter Fourteen **

**"Maelstrom" **

**(Part I)**

Peter wanted to weep for the shell he'd become. He had lost his way and he had no idea where the beginning had ended and the end had begun.

After yanking his arm out of Sylar's chest – and it had taken all of his remaining willpower to do so – he had disconnected from everything around him. He had to. He was ashamed that he couldn't remember very much of what had happened immediately after that and it was only now, lying on the bed in what turned out to be a motel room in Texas that he was able to care about his surroundings. How he had gotten there he hadn't the faintest idea.

He sat up but was assaulted with a wave of dizziness. He realised that both he and Claire hadn't eaten the whole day.

The sound of running water let him know that she was still in the shower, no doubt washing a few days worth of sadness and turmoil from her body. Peter didn't blame her and was shamed that, rather than helping to alleviate her grief, he'd actually added to it.

Faint snatches of conversation floated through his mind then; between her and Sylar out in the fading sunshine, then a hurried, one sided conversation, consisting of hints and whispers that could have been Claire confiding with Nathan.

"You're up." Claire surprised him, her voice crisp and even. Peter had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he hadn't even heard her come out of the shower. Now, watching her towelling her golden hair dry, he noticed a faint change in the way she was standing.

Usually Claire was all softness and light, the brightness that kept him securely tethered to life. But there was a slight hardness to her at the moment, as if she was being driven forward by an invisible force, all steely determination and cold eyes. There was something slightly off and it worried him.

"Yeah." He ruffled his hair, watching as she came and sat next to him. They stared at each other in the dim light, acutely aware of their physical closeness. "Where's Sylar?"

"Went off. He's going to try tracking them down." She threw her towel against a nearby chair, turning her back on him as she did so. "He'll contact us when he finds something."

"And you trust him?" Peter managed to bite most of his cynicism back, but missed some.

Her shoulders tensed. "Yes. What else was I supposed to do? Stop him by dying?"

Her tone – so raw, so broken, reminded him afresh how selfish he'd been. "I'm sorry."

Instead of being nice – which would have been a lie – he was grateful for her honesty. "You should be." Her voice softened as she slowly turned, droplets still dripping off golden tendrils. "I was really worried Peter. Really, really worried."

"I'm so sorry." The fact that she wasn't even accusing him of hurting her only heightened the shame crawling through his veins. There was nothing he could do to take away what he had happened, and all he could do now was apologise. Hopelessly, uselessly apologise. "I'm sorry. I won't ever use my powers again."

"No." She said firmly, retrieving her towel. "You don't get to say that. You don't mean it. Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"But I do –"

"No. You don't." Peter's eyes widened, seeing this harder, firmer side of Claire. She didn't sound angry or hurt, just tired. "You'll use them again, you will. They're a part of you. You've tried keeping them hidden before and it didn't work. Do you know why?"

Peter did know and Claire knew him too well for him to have hid it from her. All his powers, the ones he had stubbornly kept thinking of as other people's powers – they were _his_. It was complete and utter fiction to say he'd only borrowed them because there was no way for him to give them back. "Yes. But they'll consume me."

"Not while I'm around." Her complete trust floored him. Even after seeing what he was capable of, how could she even believe that anymore?

"You don't know – Claire, you don't know what it's like. Every time I take someone's power, I take a small piece of them with me. You're the biggest, you swim inside me like – like fire spreading through my veins. There's Nathan and Matt and Isaac and Hiro and even Sylar and god, those guys that attacked us." He was starting to get hysterical again. "Claude and Micah and Hana and they're all HERE. Do you know what that's like, to have everyone constantly inside you like that? I have no idea where I am inside my own body anymore. Am I Peter Petrelli anymore? Have I ever been him?"

"You're being stupid." She snapped, her eyes aglow with fire and brimstone. "You're being a self-centred martyr and it's time you snapped out of it. This isn't the pity Peter hour, this is about saving people's lives. Saving the world. Get a grip!"

"What the HELL do you think I've been doing?" He roared, leaping off the bed. "What the hell do you think all this has been about?"

"It's about you wanting to be a hero all the time. Running around saving the world. You think you're the only one who can do it. Like the rest of us aren't good enough to be the hero. You have to be the martyr because you want to be the best, you have to BE someone."

"I'm NOT trying to be martyr! I –"

"Give me a break Peter!" She wasn't even trying to curb her anger any more. "You're breaking down, you need help. But what do you do? You keep rushing into things, even knowing what could happen to you, even KNOWING that you'd lose control. Do you have ANY idea how hard that is to watch? How hard to watch you do – " She was sobbing angrily. "Do all that stuff? See you murder people and then collapse under the weight of it? I watched you set fire to those people, and you were protecting us, I get it, but a part of you – a part of you _liked _it. I saw it." Her emerald eyes pierced through his. "Don't bother denying it."

"I wasn't going to." Peter bit back.

"I watched you do it and it broke me. Do you understand? The next time you lose control, you might not come back. If you don't come back, if you die, if you become something Sylar would be scared of – don't you see you'd break me for real? Nathan always jokes I'm the unbreakable girl but I'm not!" She was openly sobbing now, hot, angry tears that flowed relentlessly down her face. "I'm not unbreakable because I will NOT survive without you. Do you get that? DO YOU?"

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but no words would come out. Her confession floored him and he couldn't do anything besides gape. They stared mutely at one another, the silence hanging heavy between them. Peter closed the gap to embrace her but instead she lashed out, shoving him away.

"Get the hell away from me." She was still sobbing, her breathing heavy. "I hate you right now. I love you so much I hate you for putting me through this." But just as Peter started to back away with a mixture of hurt and outrage, she pulled him roughly against her, smashing her lips against his.

He had no time to express surprise or relief. "Claire –" She cut him off, pushing her tongue roughly into his mouth, making it impossible for him to continue. They thrashed against each other, half in anger, half in passionate need. Wanting, needing, hating, loving each other.

Peter didn't know what was happening. All he knew was that he was caught in the midst of a maelstrom of confusion and the only thing keeping him from being sucked into its vortex was the girl – no, woman, she really was a woman now – roughly undoing his trousers and reaching inside to yank him out, the roughness of her touch almost sending him immediately over the edge.

Their hands were everywhere and nowhere, a tangle of arms and thrashing limbs. Peter didn't know where he stopped and she began, not that his brain cared right now. Despite the intensity of the moment – or maybe because of it – Claire was no longer holding back her passion, not bothering to hide the explicit pleasure that seemed to careen through her at Peter's touch.

The part of him that was still functioning knew this was crazy. The shadow of the conspiracy pursuing them was so vast it seemed to block all other light from getting through. Peter was adrift in a vast sea and there was no lifeboat in sight. He was drowning and there was no one there but Claire to save him.

What were they doing this for, why were they here in Odessa? Were they seriously thinking of going after Linderman by themselves, had Peter been stupid and impulsive enough to contemplate it?

Peter didn't remember and it shook him. The last few days he had been living in a crazy, mixed up, fragmented world, a world where he'd done unspeakable things, committed murder in the name of saving the lives of his friends, and where had that gotten them? Right here, with Peter ripping Claire's bathrobe off, not caring that it probably would have slipped quite easily off creamy shoulders in gentler hands.

But Peter didn't feel like being gentle at this point in time, and it was clear that Claire felt the same way. She yanked his crinkled shirt off his body, bursting the last few buttons along the way. She ran her hands over his exposed chest, making him thrust against her impatiently. He caught her eyes glistening oddly in the darkened room, watching hungrily as she raked her nails over the scar on his chest just savagely enough to draw blood.

He was barely aware of the pain as his body healed almost instantly, only the rivulets of red that dripped down onto her face and chest letting him know what she'd done. She seemed fascinated by it, like it was a novelty being able to hurt him, however temporarily, this way.

It was odd but exhilarating at the same time watching this side of Claire coming to the surface. Peter had spent the last three years forging a friendship with her, a friendship that he had hoped would last several lifetimes. As far as he knew, she had always been a gentle soul, albeit slightly devious at times, but there had never been any true malice in her.

But this – hurting him with the knowledge that he'd heal almost instantly – was new. Instead of being frightened, it actually excited him, igniting a furore of emotions that could not be contained any longer.

He swiftly pulled her panties off, manoeuvring up slightly to watch her writhe at his body's temporary absence against hers. Seeing Claire's exposed body almost finished him off right there. Peter quickly mounted her and without further warning, entered her with a single forceful thrust.

Their eyes met, cloudy, murky desperation swirling in their orbs. The fury and passion that exploded inside him just served to propel him into her more urgently, and the vigour with which she met each thrust let him know that they were evenly matched. His eyes never once left hers and Peter was able to lose himself in the burning intensity of their coupling.

Their lovemaking was intense, feverish, urgent. There was nothing of the gentleness and softness that had characterised their previous encounters and for once, Peter didn't feel the need to be the gentle soul. For this crystalline moment at least, they were no longer Peter and Claire, the dreamer and the cheerleader, the former nurse and future physical therapist. They just _were_, two beings in need of each other so badly that it hurt, hungrily and utterly, to be apart.

Peter didn't know how long it was when their frenetic lovemaking came to a standstill, nor did he particularly care. All he knew was that he never wanted his time with Claire to end and he was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.

Peter watched her with hooded eyes as she sat up, her back to him. He was half afraid that she was still angry at him, which she had every right to be. Claire had almost lost her entire family only two days before and instead of helping her through her grief, Peter had actually added to her burden.

To his relief, when she turned around she was smiling, albeit with a trace of weariness. "You don't have to apologise. You never have to apologise with me Peter."

He sat up next to her, wrapping his arms around her tiny waist and cradling her against him. Her soft golden tresses brushed like silk against his face. "I know. But I need to. You're everything to me. You know that." She nodded without a trace of self-consciousness. He was glad, because it told him that she had finally accepted how important she was in his life. He would always look after his family and friends, but Claire – she was his life. His world. His perfect other.

He trailed soft, butterfly kisses from just under her ear, down to her shoulders and upper arms, making her giggle in response. "Tickles."

"I know." He continued down her arms, running his hands down to her thighs and up again and murmured. "I know where all your sensitive spots are, remember?"

She giggled again, a sweet tinkling sound that sent shivers up his spine. "I remember." She turned, gazing up at him with those eyes that always made his heart stop and time melt into eternity. "I need you." She said simply, before pushing him gently back down onto the bed. "I'll always need you."

Peter gazed up at her, his eyes searching as she slowly draped herself on him. Her eyes never wavered as she planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips, the sweetness of her taste sending shivers of excitement coursing through his veins.

Peter closed his eyes as she gently curled herself around his body, losing himself in the sensation of the melding of their bodies, rocking together as if made to be one.


	16. Chapter Fourteen Part II

**Chapter Fourteen **

**"Maelstrom"**

**Part II**

Peter couldn't recall the last time he felt this at peace.

On second thought, he did recall. It was only three short days ago, before everything went to hell, when he had woken to soft chirping sounds of a lazy Sunday morning with Claire in his arms. It was hard to believe that had only been 72 hours ago. The biggest dilemma Peter had was whether he was taking his relationship with Claire too quickly.

Now, that question was irrelevant. He and Claire belonged together and nothing should ever stand between them.

His eyes opened languidly as he smiled into Claire's golden hair. It was now morning, a soft, syrupy Texas morning that promised golden sunshine of a summer that just passed. The laziness of the slowly wakening world reminded Peter of the peace of their time in the Hamptons, the prelude to the maelstrom they were now caught up in.

He reached over, gently trailing a hand over Claire's sleeping form before wrapping it around her waist. He reached over to lace his fingers with hers, all the while smiling bemusedly that even through all the recent chaos, he still had wound up with the only person that could ever fully give him the hope to survive. Galvanise his tenuous control over whatever was in him; give him an aspiration worthy of attainment.

It was odd how thinking back, destiny had careened his life into Claire's three short years ago. Peter hardly remembered what life had been like for him without Claire, an experience he was keen to never relive.

She shifted and mumbled in her sleep, making her even more adorable. Peter was glad to have stolen a chance to see her like this, away from the thousand worries that harried their existence, away from the desperation and loss that had been thrown her way. He gently spooned his body next to hers, wanting to be as close to her as possible. As if that would somehow meld them into a single, coherent form.

He closed his eyes in contentment. But Peter's movements, however slight, had awoken her. Although they had only recently begun their relationship, he could tell she was about to wake up by the soft mewing sound she made.

"Morning." He whispered, eyes still closed. Peter inhaled her perfect scent, wishing for a lifetime of just lying by her side.

He felt a ghost of a smile brush her face. "No kissing." She mumbled and he felt her hands brushing untidy tendrils of golden rain off her face. "You know my stance on morning breath."

"And you know mine." Peter rejoined softly, finally opening his eyes to find hers keenly meeting his. Unlike the night before, the kiss they shared was deep, feeling like an eternity to Peter. She looked up at him with those glorious green eyes, sparkling with curiosity and bemusement. "What?" He asked, frowning.

Her laugh was like tinkling crystal, clear and pure. It was intoxicating to see her like this. "Your hair." She reached out to smooth what turned out to be his wayward hair, flattening it to her liking. "Without product, it really looks like it belongs in National Geographic. Like some sort of new plant or something."

He reached up self-consciously, hardly believing that in the midst of the drama, he still felt protective about his hair. He was about to retort indignantly but was hampered by ringing on Claire's cell phone.

Claire reached over. "It's Nathan." Peter's only acknowledgement was tightening his hold on her. She shrugged, glancing at him once before answering. "Nathan, are you guys all right?"

Even with the high stakes involved, he didn't feel like talking to his brother just yet. Peter could almost feel the recriminations from Nathan and he wasn't in the mood to counter them or justify his actions. Partly because he couldn't really justify his impulsive behaviour, but partly because it was the same old story – Peter was forever getting himself into a scrape that Nathan had to bail him out of.

He listened intently, eyes still closed, as Claire told Nathan about Peter and what had happened in Texas. Even though his ear wasn't next to the receiver, he was still able to hear Nathan roar a string of expletives in response. It was loud enough for Claire to throw Peter an accusing look before holding the receiver a comfortable distance away. She had learned that to do that from him whenever his brother's temper got notoriously vicious.

"Are you finished Nathan?" She demanded. Her tone made Peter smirk. After she had gotten over her initial fear of his brother, she had never looked back. Claire was actually one of the only people besides Heidi and his mother that could go toe to toe with Nathan and not back down.

Nathan seemed to have calm down enough for Claire to continue. "Yeah, I know Peter's an idiot. We all knew that." Peter's eyes flew open and was about to protest but Claire shushed him. "We're both safe. Look, we found out who's behind everything." Claire told him all about her father, Linderman and Sylar. After another significant pause to absorb a fresh tirade from his brother – which appeared to be directed only at their father's old friend, thank goodness – Claire felt it safe to continue. "Are you guys okay? After Isaac's paintings –"

Despite only being privy to Claire's half of the conversation, there was no mistaking her panic ridden tone as she suddenly sat up. "What?" She exclaimed. "Are you guys all right?" Peter likewise sat up, concerned. "Okay, we'll be there."

"What's happened?" Peter asked urgently as Claire hung up.

Avoiding his gaze, she launched herself off the bed as if a rocket had suddenly been placed under her. "Peter, we have to go back. They've been under attack. That's why we weren't able to get a hold of them before. We have to go back to make sure everyone's okay."

There was nothing she could have said that could have propelled Peter into action quicker.

They swiftly dressed and checked out of the motel. After his active but oddly restful night spent with Claire, Peter dared to trust that his control of himself was sufficient to allow him to teleport them back to Nathan's house, where his brother had told Claire they were all gathered.

* * *

Whatever Peter had expected when he and Claire materialised in the living room of Nathan's home, it hadn't been this.

Claude strode calmly up to him, glancing at him once before he decked him, sending him reeling. Peter landed heavily on the floor. "You bloody idiot." Claude screamed. If the situation hadn't been so charged, Peter was sure the others would have sniggered.

"Ow." Peter protested from the floor, grabbing his throbbing jaw which had already begun to heal.

"I take my first holiday in three long, bloody years guiding your sorry arse to control your powers and the first thing you do when I turn my back is lose ALL CONTROL? Are you a complete idiot?!"

"Why do you always feel the need to hit me?" Peter moaned.

"Because it makes me feel good." Claude deadpanned. "And because you're a bloody idiot. I'm sure your pretty friend here would agree with me, as well as everyone in this room. I was having the time of a middle aged life in Ibiza, cavorting and gyrating with young blonde things with nary a brain in their pretty little heads." He caught himself, casting a slightly guilty glance at Claire. "No offence love."

"None taken. I think."

"Right. And then what happens? Your friend the human wireless zaps me with a very special message saying you'd gone off your nut and could I please come back to clean your mess up? Git."

Peter dusted himself off, throwing an irritated glance at his brother and Hana Gitelman, who had emerged from the shadows, looking oddly smug. If looks could kill, they'd both be six feet under in two seconds flat.

Given everything else that had happened over the last few days, Peter had no other justification other than. "I didn't mean to."

He glanced around, stunned at the crowd gathered at his family home. It appeared that since he had disappeared, Nathan had marshalled some support from people who appeared to have been in the neighbourhood. Most notable of them was Hana, able to tune into all electronic waves. There were also a lot of vaguely familiar faces – people he had met briefly at one time or another, mainly through Mohinder or Matt Parkman – like Jerry Henderson, capable of manipulating metal who lived only a county away from Matt in Los Angeles, Gavin Wang, able to move in short bursts of intense speed, based at Harvard, and Mike Moss, able to channel solar power. Originally from Australia, he appeared to have no fixed address, content to wander the globe in search of new and exciting experiences.

This was not to mention Nathan, Heidi, Peter's mom, Mohinder, Niki, DL and Ando. The room felt too crowded. He had nothing against anyone, but Peter just really wanted to leave.

Peter nodded to the newcomers, who gave him slight nods in return. Evidently their nerves were still raw in the aftermath of their last fight.

Peter noted with guilt that Hiro was the only absence and hoped his friend was not still in the past looking for Peter. Because if anything happened to him – Peter wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

Luckily before Claude could tear him a new one, Nathan managed to step in. "This isn't helping, we need to stick together on this. That asshole Linderman – " And here he inserted a few other choice words, prompting Niki to roll her eyes and Ando to look increasingly confused at his colourful language. "He's been behind everything, right from the beginning. We need to take him down before he destroys all of us. He's not even hiding it anymore."

"I agree." Niki's voice was low, dangerous. "We need to take him out and we need to do it now."

"But we still don't have a clear idea what we're up against." Peter turned and saw Matt Parkman and Audrey Hansen stroll into the room.

"What are you guys –?" Peter's relief was tempered with a huge dose of bewilderment. There were too many things going on, too many people in the room.

"We got Nathan's call for help through Hana. Try to keep up Petrelli." Audrey replied without breaking stride. "Look, we've done a perimeter search. Those guys – whoever they were – seem to have cleared out."

_"Peter, is it true?" _Peter was glad to see Matt again. He always had a soothing presence and Peter was sorely in need of calm at the moment. _"About Linderman being behind everything?"_

_"Yeah. We found out from Claire's dad." _

Matt peered curiously at him. _"Can we do that? Communicate with people in comas?" _Peter nodded, and smiled. "_That's so cool."_

_"What happened here?" _Peter asked curiously, surveying the tattered state of the house. _"We gathered from Nathan you guys were attacked?"_

Matt mentally nodded. _"Yeah. We came just in time – Jerry and Mike and the others. Niki and Nathan were doing everything they could to hold them off, but it was too close to call. Hana and Claude helped DL protect the kids._" He shook his head. _"We fought them, but I still don't know what they're really after." _

_"How many?"_

_"As far as we saw, only two. Lucky, otherwise we probably wouldn't be able to match them. Peter, they could do stuff – more than one thing." _

_"I know. We've seen them before." _

"Can you guys stop mind melding and share with the rest of the class?" Audrey asked crisply, shooting them annoyed looks.

Matt managed to look sheepish, while Peter shrugged. He had enough on his plate without worrying about Audrey's irritation. In a way, she was pretty similar to Nathan and over the years he had developed some immunity to both of them when they were being particularly irritated. Strangely enough, conversations between Nathan and Audrey remained civilised and neutral, as if each respected the other's temerity and directness.

"We were just talking about what happened to us. And how Peter managed to talk to Claire's dad."

DL asked curiously. "Wasn't he –"

"In a coma. He still is." Claire responded promptly, her tone brooking no further discussion.

"Right." There was a beat, before DL continued. "Linderman's pretty much done something to each of us. I'd say it's time for some payback – fast."

Peter's mom, who had been sitting quietly on the couch, now spoke. "It's not always about payback." Her steely eyes met Nathan and Peter's across the room. "Sometimes it's recognising when you can't win a battle and protecting your family at all costs."

Her calmness shook Peter. It didn't feel right, even though his mother had always been collected and hard to ruffle. With the exception of engaging in bouts of shoplifting, she had never put a foot wrong in her life. Her acceptance of their extraordinary situation stunned him.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Nathan demanded and Peter was relieved to see that his brother had also been taken aback by their mother's reaction.

There was a charged silence. Peter saw Claire glance once from Nathan to Niki and DL, before her eyes met his. They were as curious as his were. "Mom?" Peter prompted softly, her reticence drawing him physically closer.

When she finally spoke, his mother seemed tired, more weary than he had ever seen her. "I mean … there are some fights you can't win. I mean that sometimes the stakes are so high, it's better to let go than keep on fighting. Do whatever you can to survive."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Don't ask me about this Nathan." She bit back, civility no longer in the equation. His father and Nathan had always been the gruff, dominant side of the Petrelli family, with Peter and his mom the yielding counterparts. But now her eyes shone furiously, making even Nathan aware that he had stepped into something dangerous.

"Mom?" Peter asked tenderly, kneeling by his mother's side. He cast a warning glance at Nathan to ward off further interruption. "What do you know about Linderman?"

Peter felt as if the entire room closed in on her, the others waiting with bated breath. Suspense hung thick in the air. "Everything. I know everything."

Although he had expected it, her answer still stunned everyone. Peter probed carefully, his eyes meeting Claire's. "What do you mean, everything?"

"I mean Peter, I know everything and I've known for years." Her irritation was palpable and Peter resisted the urge to back off entirely.

All his life, he had been able to run to her for help. His mom often showed the bluntness so characteristic of the Petrelli clan, but she had always shown compassion for Peter's sensitive ways. He had gotten a lot of flak from his brother and father about it, but he had always felt his close relationship with his mother had been worth it. It was the only relationship Peter had besides his one with Claire that made him feel loved and accepted just the way he was.

Her pause was so long they all began to think she wouldn't continue. She spoke up again just before Nathan was about to prompt her. "Linderman is dangerous, more dangerous than you know. No one that has ever gone against him has survived." She paused dramatically. "Your father found that out the hard way."


	17. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

**"Revelations"**

Claire was confused, and so were Nathan and Peter. She had been told that Peter's father had suffered from depression all his life, a depression which had eventually driven him to suicide. It had been covered up as a heart attack with Peter not discovering the truth until six months after. 

But was Angela suggesting that Peter's father's death hadn't been suicide? 

They all stared blankly at her. "What do you mean?" Nathan rushed forward, pressing both hands on his mother's shoulders. "What do you mean mom?" 

"What else do you think I meant?" She spat, her eyes fiery. "Your father paid for that mistake with his life. I will not let my sons pay with theirs." 

"You mean … dad's death. It wasn't suicide?" Claire had never seen Nathan more shaken. He looked very much like Peter had during the past few days, something she wasn't sure she was prepared to see. Not when she, along with everyone else, was counting on Nathan to propel them on, keep them going past breaking point. Because that's who he was – an over-bearing drill sergeant who made sure they all got over whatever issues they had in order to stay alive. Everyone, including Claire, depended on him for that. To see him lost and devastated was not comforting in the slightest. 

Angela threw her hands up in agitation. "Of course that's what I meant. Your father finally stood up to Linderman and lost everything." 

"Okay Angela, I think you have to back up there." Matt stepped forward, his arms reaching out. "Do you know Linderman? Something that could help us with all this? If you do, you need to tell us." 

Claire was relieved that Matt had the sense to step in, drawing Nathan and Peter's attention away from their family issues. While obviously significant for them, it wasn't helping at present and they needed to steer the ship back on course. Matt was also the only person – besides Peter, if he had been in a less traumatized state of mind – that could have read the minds of anyone in that room, including Angela Petrelli's. 

Angela looked askance at Matt, then realising his logic, sighed. It carried regret from the last twenty years. "I've never told anyone this. Now I suppose I must." 

Peter sat next to his mother and folded his hand over hers. The tableau of them together, the perfect picture of mother son affection, warmed her heart. She saw Peter regain some of the empathy that made him the person she loved and less like the person Claire had glimpsed over the past few days. "Yes Mom, I think you must." 

Angela's revelations about the past could not have been more incredible if it had been fiction. Although it had most significance for Nathan and Peter, it still stunned the rest of them, especially those with abilities. 

Claire had never felt completely at ease in society knowing what she could do – despite everything she had been through and assurances from Peter and the others that she wasn't a freak, just different – Claire never felt she'd belonged anywhere. Her healing carried obvious benefits, but it was also a curse. It set her painfully apart from almost everyone around her and no one, besides those who shared the same fate, could ever understand what that was like. 

True to form, Angela didn't beat around the bush. She addressed Peter and Nathan with watery eyes. "Did you never wonder why both of you have abilities?" 

Her question, when everyone had been prepared for narrative, threw them off-balance again. Nathan replied for both of them. "No. I suppose … no, we didn't. Should we have?" 

"Of course." She sighed and some of her dry wit returned. "Thousands of dollars spent in exclusive prep schools for both of you, and yet you never questioned why you can do what you do." 

"Mohinder …" Peter glanced to his friend for help. "I remember we talked once about this. How me and Nathan and Micah – our abilities ran in our families." 

Mohinder nodded, uncrossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "My research indicates that abilities are the result of either two genetic circumstances – either it's a spontaneous mutation, or past down from parents to children. In the second case, the 'hero' gene – for want of a better term – is recessive." Seeing their blank expressions, he elaborated, becoming more animated. "It means both parents must have the gene for it to manifest in the children. Otherwise it stays 'hidden', recessive. Take Micah for example." He raced to Micah's side, pointing to him. "He's the product of Niki and DL, both people with the gene. But as Micah is only the such child I've come across, I've never been able to prove my thesis." 

"Not anymore." Angela noted dryly, gesturing to her two children. "You can add Nathan and Peter to the list. And Hiro too, while you're at it." Off their owlish looks, she exploded indignantly. "Oh for god's sake, you mean it still hasn't clicked?" 

Claire was the first one to find her voice. "You mean … both you and Mr Petrelli have powers?" She looked agog at Angela. Despite being the mother to both Nathan and Peter, Claire had never suspected that Angela Petrelli had abilities of her own. But it made perfect sense. How else to explain both Peter and Nathan's abilities? If she understood Mohinder correctly, it was the most likely explanation of the brother's powers. Spontaneous mutation of their genes might have explained either one of them having abilities, but not both. 

"Of course." Mohinder looked like he was going to smack himself and jump in excitement at the same time. "I can't believe I never –of course, it was right there in front of us – how could I not have _seen _it? It's so obvious." 

"It's true?" Peter finally found his voice. "You and Dad …?" 

"We never told you boys, we decided … it was best if you were kept ignorant. Both of you. Until they manifested." 

"But what happened?" Matt asked intuitively. He probably already knew the answer to his own question, but was using his telepathy to prod Angela to disclose her story. "They ah, manifested. And yet –" 

"Linderman happened, that's what." Angela snapped, then reeled her temper back in. "There was a group of us in the beginning. Linderman, Anthony, me, Kato Nakamura. There were others – many others, but they died a while ago. Linderman and Anthony ran the show. Back then it wasn't an organisation, it was just … a group of people – special people – finding solace in each other's company. We needed to hide, keep it a secret. Back then – well, same as now I suppose – it wasn't a good thing, to be able to do what we could." She paused and looked around. "Can somebody please give me some scotch? The bigger the better." 

DL obediently went to get it for Angela. After taking a large gulp, she continued. "We started to try to find others like us. Linderman and Anthony thought it was best to see how many of us there really were." 

"Why?" Nathan asked quietly. 

"We hadn't really decided. We just thought – well, Anthony and Linderman thought – it was best to do something about it. We couldn't hide what we could do from the rest of the world forever. Linderman used to say that we had to be prepared for judgement day. For him, it was always us against them. Anyway, we found others – it was hard going without all the gadgets we have nowadays – no internet and linked servers – so it was all done the hard way. Detective work." 

"Must have been some operation." Nathan commented shrewdly. 

"Yes. And for that they needed money – lots of it. That's where your father's and Linderman's business dealings started. We needed to set up an organisation with enough manpower and resources to sustain itself. To do that, we needed another revenue source. That's where all this business with the casino started." 

"You started a casino because you wanted to make money to sustain your organisation?" Claude asked incredulously. For his own reasons, Claude had chosen to remain invisible throughout the discussion. 

"Yes. Anthony and Nakamura both come from old money, and Linderman was more than willing to provide the initial manpower. He and Anthony had made a lot of friends in Vietnam, old army pals they could call favours from. The others had abilities that were used to generate more short term sources of financing, if you know what I mean. We all pitched in, in our own way." 

Everyone in the room was captivated. "The organisation wasn't like what it is now. It was just a group friends doing something that could be useful in the future. But then everything changed. Linderman changed." 

Niki squinted at Angela. "He wasn't like what he is now?" 

"No, he was … he and Anthony were best friends. Can you imagine it? But it was true, I believe that … they did start out as friends. Then everything changed and we couldn't trust them anymore. Linderman and Kato. Hiro's father and Linderman, they wanted more, wanted to do more with the information we had. They started a research facility and the rest, they say, is history." 

"What about you and dad?" Nathan asked. "You didn't go along with it?" 

"Oh believe me, we did. We had to. Anthony saw that we had to." Off their confusion, she explained. "Nathan, your father saw the future. In dreams." 

"Excuse me?" It was Peter who interrupted this time. It took a few seconds more for it to click in Claire's mind, but then she recalled Peter telling her that one of the first things he remembered being able to do when he first discovered his powers, on the night of Nathan and Heidi's car accident, was dreaming about it as it happened. 

"He saw the future. He had visions in his dreams." Angela reiterated. "It … was useful, but it had its price." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I don't understand fully how his power worked, even now. When he first got it, he was fascinated. Thought it finally made him somebody. But the more he saw, the more it disturbed him. It was something he never really opened up to me about. From what he told me, not only could he see the future, he also saw possibilities. Or something like that, I could never keep it straight. I'm not sure whether he could either." 

"Then what happened?" Matt probed again. "You mentioned how going against Linderman – it cost your husband … ah, I mean –" 

"Oh Matt, you don't have to be so polite, I know you've already read my thoughts. I'm surprised Peter hasn't done it already." She threw a reproachful look at her younger son. "If he knew what was best for him, he'd learn to use his powers like the rest of us instead of worrying about what he might do with them." 

"Mom." 

Angela ignored Peter's anguished protest. "Going against Linderman cost my husband his life. But he had to. Linderman found out Nathan and Peter were going to betray your father to go after Linderman." 

Nathan's face turned ashen and he sank into the other couch. Claire glanced at Peter, whose eyes had taken on a stricken look. His shoulders were slumped and it looked like he'd been physically assaulted. "He knew?" Peter gasped, as Claire hurried to his side. He instinctively reached out for her, keeping his eyes on his mother. "He knew we were going to betray him to the DA?" 

"Of course he knew. Don't be so ridiculous, didn't I already tell you he could see the future? He saw what you and Nathan were going to do. He didn't blame either of you for it. It was – he always used to say that everyone plays their part. It's what's meant to be. I never understood though. I was angry. You have no idea how I angry I was at the both of you." 

"But what happened? I thought Dad … I mean, you said it was suicide?" 

"The coroner pronounced it suicide. But I know better. The timing wasn't just coincidence, I know – I can't prove it, but your father died the night before you and Nathan were about to testify against him." She swallowed painfully. "That's another thing your father always said to me. There are no coincidences in this world. No matter how awful his ability was to him, no matter how much he thought they were a burden – there was no way the man I loved would take his own life, not when both his sons were in danger. There's no way." 

Angela downed the rest of her scotch while the others looked on, fascinated. In a unique way, she realised she had something in common with Angela Petrelli, something the older woman had let slip. Her conviction her husband had not committed suicide was spurred on by her trust she had had in him, a man she had loved deeply. It paralleled Claire's her love for Peter, making her feel closer to Angela than ever before. 

There was just one more thing on Claire's mind, but she wasn't sure it was entirely appropriate to ask. "Angela, can I ask – what can you do? What's your power I mean?" 

Peter's mom laughed, a captivating, tinkling laugh. Suddenly an image of the bright eyed, mischievous girl that Angela Petrelli must have been crossed Claire's mind then, a devilish, beguiling woman with enough brains to match her dark beauty. "Nothing dramatic I'm afraid. I'm … let's just say I'm a keen gardener." 

Peter frowned. "What does gardening have anything to do with it?" 

"Yeah, and since when do you actually garden? I've never once seen you get your hands dirty if you could help it." Nathan added. 

"Oh Nathan, you truly are obtuse sometimes. Of course I don't. Why get my hands dirty when I can just do it with my mind?" And with that, she placed her scotch carefully down onto the coffee table. She closed her eyes, stretching out her closed fist. she opened her hand to reveal a soft white rose, dew clinging to the sides. "Now do you understand?" 

"Mom." Peter said in admiration and wonder. "I never knew." Then almost as if a switch had been flipped he continued in bubbling excitement. "That's why our gardens – they're always perfect. You always love walking in them, everything's just to your liking. All those roses – Nathan, the rose garden, you remember how we set fire to it by accident one year, we had a bonfire – remember? The next day –" 

"The next day all the roses came back. Just as they were." Nathan concluded, his eyes shining. "We just thought you'd gotten them replaced, scared some poor guy into working overnight or something." He fixed accusing eyes on his mother. "Why didn't you tell us before?" 

"What good would that have done?" 

"It would've made Peter and I feel less like freaks!" Nathan suddenly roared, then collected himself. "We told you what we could do, why didn't you tell us?" 

"I'm not sure this is helping." Claire murmured, casting a warning glance at Nathan. Although it probably wasn't her place as she wasn't part of the Petrelli family, her sudden connection with Peter's mother made her want to defend the woman. Angela must have had her reasons for keeping her secret, same as everyone else. 

"Claire's right." She was relieved at Peter's agreement. He gave her that curiously crooked smile she so loved, a smile she hadn't seen for what seemed an eternity. "It's not helping. Mom did what she thought was right. Who are we to question that?" 

"Thank you dear." Angela gave her son a slight peck on the forehead. 

"This is all very touching, but we really need a plan right about now." Audrey interrupted, hands on hips. "Linderman and this organisation of his are still operating, still out there, and from what you've told us it seems like they're moving on some plan. We need to know how to go after him." 

"I agree with Hansen." Nathan's tone was gruff and commanding once more. "Mom, you know Linderman, what's his game?" 

If anyone thought it was odd that after being so infuriated at his mother Nathan could still turn to her for help, they didn't let on. Nathan was pragmatic and he must have realised the invaluable intelligence his mother could deliver, knowledge he wasn't about to ignore. "More importantly, what can he do?" Audrey added shrewdly, throwing Matt a look. "Mrs Petrelli, I think it's important we all know." 

"Of course." Angela nodded. "Linderman's power is his greatest asset, the reason why we all feared him." Everyone in the room were holding their breaths. "His power is the greatest of all, perhaps only superseded by Peter's." Peter started at the mention of his name. "His is the power of life and death." 

"What …" Mohinder blinked. "What do you mean, life and death?" 

"I mean, he can heal people, but he can also kill them. It's something to do with life force, no one has ever gotten close enough to study it if that's what you're thinking. He has to be near them to do it, that's the only limitation I know. But it's … enough, usually. He's quick and sharp and he's managed to build an organisation that includes hundreds of people with abilities. You're fools if you think you can go up against him and live." 

"We have to mom." Peter burst out, suddenly unleashing his nervous energy. "We can't live like this. _I_ can't live like this, we need to do –" He looked to the others for support, his thoughts becoming fractured. 

"I agree." Both Claire and Nathan spoke up, then looked at each other in confusion. Claire gestured for Nathan to continue. 

"You cannot go up against Linderman!" Angela flared and suddenly mother and son were locked in an inner struggle. 

"We're sitting ducks as long as we're not on the offensive, mom!" 

"I will _not _lose my sons when I've already lost my husband!" 

"Mom, he's already made his move, he won't stop until he gets what he wants. Don't you see, we don't have a choice anymore. Neither did dad. He saw that. You saw it too, otherwise you wouldn't be here." Dark, steely eyes bore holes into all of them. "I know all of you well enough to know that no one will be suggesting we just hand Claire over to them. It doesn't solve any of our problems so let's just all agree that's not an option." 

Anger flared on Peter's face while the others murmured in agreement. Claire had to admit that the possibility hadn't even crossed her mind, which was good for her since apparently it wasn't a possibility at all now. Even though the situation was so dire, warmth infused her to know that these people in the room were all willing to fight rather than hand her over to Linderman. They were her family and to Claire's surprise, she realised she wasn't quite that alone after all. 

Nathan was still speaking. "I don't know about any of you, but we need to end this – now. We can't always be looking over our shoulders for the next attack." He glanced at Niki and DL, who was nodding agreement, as were Mohinder, Matt, Audrey and Ando. Claude shimmered back into visibility, stony resolve replacing his usual laconic slouch. Claire and Peter he didn't even bother to check with, knowing them as well as he did. "Then we're agreed. This is a war we're going into. A war we have to win at all cost. And to do that, we'll need all the resources we can get our hands on. That includes Hiro." 

Nathan shot a glance at his brother, approaching Peter carefully. "Peter, you're the only one who can go back. Go back in the past to get Hiro." She noted he was tactful enough to not mention that Hiro was only in the past to find Peter. 

Claire saw Peter's eyes were troubled, frightened. "I'm not sure whether I can Nathan." He whispered brokenly. "You don't know what I've done – what I'm capable of doing. There's – there's a darkness in me, and I can't control it anymore. If Claire hadn't been there the last time, I would've – Nathan, I don't know whether I can." 

"I know Petey." Nathan whispered so softly only Claire and Peter could hear him. "We need him if we're going up against Linderman. Next to you, Hiro's our best bet. We _need _him." His dark eyes flickered over to Claire's, who was watching Peter with concern. "Are you on board with this?" 

Claire realised that Nathan was trusting her judgement about Peter and it awed her that he was conferring with her this way. She didn't shrink from the responsibility. "I think it has to be done." She turned, her arms clinging to Peter as he turned to her with hope dawning in his eyes. "I think you can do it, Peter. I trust you." 

It was almost as if her belief was enough to tip him over the edge into reason once more. He swallowed once, twice, then three times, before standing up on shaking legs. Claire stood up with him. "Okay, I'll do it. It might … I've never done this before. It might take some time." 

"Don't worry, you can control time." Ando noted helpfully, putting some of the colour back onto Peter's pale face. "You won't need to worry about it." 

"And concentrate." Claude muttered, glancing at Peter darkly. "Concentration and control, that's all you need." 

Their support seemed to bolster Peter's resolve. He glanced once at Nathan, then Claire and before she had the time to wish him luck, Peter had teleported himself back to the past.  



	18. Chapter Sixteen

**Chapter Sixteen**

**"Fathers and Sons"**

Peter's control over his abilities had always been an issue, none more so now than this instant when he needed it the most.

He knew a split second before he teleported that his concentration hadn't been quite as stable as Hiro had always advised. So Peter wasn't as much surprised as relieved to find that he hadn't completely bungled it, and more importantly, was still alive to give it a second try.

Peter glanced around, seeing the familiarity of the home that he had grown up in. Apparently he had only succeeded in teleporting as far as the upper east wing, near his mother's part of the house. Which wasn't great in the sense that Hiro was unlikely to be at his family house but not bad in the sense that Peter wasn't dead or worse.

Claude was absolutely going to kill him. He could hear his mentor blast away. "Concentrate when you're using your powers! Or is that too much for little Petey to handle?"

"Right." Peter muttered under his breath, staring daggers at the wall. "Concentrate." He was about to teleport again when something jerked him to a stop.

The differences were so subtle Peter hadn't spotted them at first. It was true that he was standing in a hallway of the upper east wing, but it wasn't quite the same as he'd always remembered it. Either his mother had taken the time to redecorate during the last few days, or … not.

Everything looked grander, smelt more of old money, although technically there was no smell per se. Over the last few years – especially with the influx of other people living in the house, most notably Claire and putting the other Heroes up when they were in town – the part of the house that wasn't exclusively reserved for ostentatious displays of wealth had been revamped to at least vaguely resemble a family home. The marble busts of previous Petrelli patriarchs (both real and imagined, his family had always been preoccupied with image) had been removed to the west wing, as had his father's priceless art collection. Only the Venetian crystal chandeliers, the centrepiece of the double staircase hadn't been replaced during his mother's zealous makeover. It was typical of his mother that once a decision was made, she carried it through to the bitter end.

Instead, it had all been replaced with bookcases (filled with real books), interesting knick knacks from his mother's travels around the world, and photographs of his father, Peter, Nathan and the rest of the family. The last time Peter had been roped into escorting his mother to the opera, he had been impatiently waiting for his mom to get ready and had even spied a photo of him with Claire, which Peter had found intrusive at the time, but now the memory made him smile.

He padded down the hall on soft feet, noting the minute differences. It took Peter a while to realise what must have happened. He hadn't failed to teleport to the past at all – he _was _in the past. At his family house.

He spun around, trying to gauge the time frame. His heart began to pound and it took him a minute to realise what was making him so tense.

He had no idea where – correction, when – he'd landed himself in. There was every possibility that he would run into his younger self (a paradox Peter remembered spelt doom as far as time travel was concerned, or at least confusion and chaos. Hiro had mumbled something about the grandfather paradox and able to eliminate your entire existence with a single act, but Peter had only managed to understand every fifth word coming out of Hiro's mouth), or worst still, run into other versions of his family. The thought of facing sneering, incredulous disbelief from Nathan – which Peter had already found hard to stomach the first time round – almost flipped his stomach inside out.

The whole thing made his head hurt and his head and everything else in his body was hurting enough already from the trauma it had been put through over the last three days. The best thing to do, Peter decided, was to get the hell out of dodge.

Which as it turned out was actually a lot harder to do than to say. Peter's attempts to exert some minimal degree of control over himself and by extension, his abilities, was tenuous at the best of times. Coupled with the residual haze he'd been in over the last few days, a haze of confusion that still lingered in his body and the intensity of his current situation, meant that he had almost no chances of getting himself – for lack of a better description – to work.

He was seriously beginning to doubt his sanity. Who or what had given him these powers of his? Who had given him the right to play God, to change the choices that others had made before him? Did Peter deserve to have all these powers at his disposal? When it came down to it, was he any better candidate to wield them than Sylar?

Since discovering his abilities, he had believed in the predestination of all things. He thought his powers would arm him to make the world a better place. It had been his turn to be somebody. Instead, all it got him was confusion, pain, loss and heartache. First Simone, now Isaac. Even his father's death – if his mother's conjectures were to be believed – had all been due to whatever destiny he and his family were caught up in. It was all too much and Peter – effervescent believer in the good of all things – was starting to lose faith.

He backed against the wall, allowing himself to slide down the length of it until he found himself crouched like a small child cowering in the shadows. If Claire had been with him, her emerald eyes would have shot furious sparks at his blithe acceptance of defeat.

He lifted his head, the thought of her galvanising him. Not just what she meant to him or how he felt about her, but her strength and resilience to go on. Peter hadn't had the easiest time of it over the past few years, but who was he to complain when Claire had been through the same or worse? Claire, who had lost her innocence at 16, had been on the run from a father who had tried erasing her memories, had died over and over, been the target of a homicidal maniac, not to mention the possible cause of her family's destruction – she was still fighting, not showing any signs of the fragility or self doubt that had plagued Peter.

Who was Peter Petrelli to give up when Claire still had the strength to fight?

Peter stood, brushing off the dust he'd collected from the wall. It was just as well, because as soon as he had regained his feet he heard rapid footsteps. He was able to duck into the nearest room just in time to avoid a run in with what turned out to be a very determined looking pre-pubescent Nathan. He appeared to be absorbed in whatever game he was playing with himself, dressed in mock camouflage gear. He looked like a miniature GI Joe.

Peter's heart pounded from the close call. He didn't know who would have had the bigger heart attack – the 29 year old Peter meeting his about 10 or 11 year old older brother, if his estimate was correct – or Nathan, when he learned of what had almost happened, if or when Peter managed to get back to his own time.

He really wasn't cut out for all this time travel stuff.

He heard his brother's footsteps die away, breathing a sigh of relief. It was only then he was able to find his bearings and then promptly wished he hadn't found them at all.

He inhaled sharply, pale face growing ashen as the old grandfather clock ticked ominously in the background. A handsome, middle-aged man stared back at him, large dark eyes framed by jet black hair, dressed impeccably in a classic Italian suit. He appeared to be trembling with shock.

Peter had only ever seen that face in pictures. The one he had been used to seeing was older, much older, with many more lines marring his boyish features. Peter had also remembered him with greying hair, lending him an aristocratic air of harsh judgement to everything he did.

Peter's father stared back at him in the stillness. He had been in the middle of pouring himself a drink. "You."

"It's … me." It was only after Peter heard his own croaking voice did he realise how ridiculous he sounded. "I mean …" How was he going to explain this? Was he supposed to introduce himself or remain anonymous?

His mind raced. Judging by what Peter had seen of Nathan, Peter himself would either not have been born yet or still a very small child. There was no way his father would recognise him and for that Peter was grateful.

But that relief shattered the next instant. "Peter." He gaped. How could his father have known? "I know you, son. I knew you'd be coming." They blinked furiously, shaken. A thousand thoughts ran riot in Peter's mind, refusing to be tamed. "Peter, I know you must have a lot of questions. I've got answers, but –" His father chuckled then, a low, rumbling, bitter laugh. "We don't have much time."

"You … Dad – you know me? How?" Was all Peter could choke out. This must be hands down one of the most ridiculous conversations he would ever have.

His father resumed pouring himself a drink, pouring another for Peter. "How much do you know about … our family?" Shrewd, penetrating eyes sparkled in the dim light as he handed his son a glass of scotch.

"Enough." Peter's gaze flittered around, noting his surroundings. He appeared to be in an alcove or study of some sort and the only light emanated from the few sconces and lamps scattered about the room. Muted wood panelling complemented rich, red carpet. Richly bound books completed the touch of rarefied learning. Peter saw at once that it was designed to be a sanctuary from prying eyes.

He only had a very vague memory of this place, remembering that his father had once caught him sneaking into his study uninvited. That had earned him a harsh dressing down that still had him cringing inwardly after all these years.

He glanced back at his father, taking in the older man's features. Peter couldn't get over how young his dad looked. It was like looking at Nathan but a happier, lighter version of his brother. Peter racked his brain for memories of his father as this man, but none came readily to mind.

Had his family been right all along? Had Peter's memories of his father been coloured by his own lack of self-confidence? Peter downed the entire glass, choking slightly as it burned down his throat. How could his dad be so calm about this? He was a 40 year old man talking to his 29 year son for god's sakes.

"So you know … about certain people with abilities?"

His father was fencing delicately with him, the way Nathan did when he was trying to gauge what other people's true motivations were. Their similarity unsettled him. "Yes, I know. Nathan and I – we can do stuff. So can you and mom I gather."

If the information ruffled him, his father didn't let it show. Peter had to admire his unwavering calm. "First off, before I tell you anything, you must understand that you cannot tell me anything about the future. That is, anything I don't already know. Do you understand Peter? You _cannot _tell me anything about the future that I don't already know."

Peter recalled what his mother had told them of his father's power. "I understand. You … can see the future? In dreams?"

His father nodded, coming closer to inspect him. He ran a hand over his son's face, his expression one of awe. Despite his calm exterior, his dad was actually shaking like a leaf. "Parts of it. And for that, I'm sorry Peter. I'm so sorry."

They both had tears in their eyes now, although Peter still had no idea what the hell was going on. He couldn't believe he'd stumbled onto this chance to see his father one last time. "What for? What're you sorry for, Dad?"

"For what's about to happen." He heard his father sigh, wiping tears off his face. "I've seen glimpses of the future, your future. And I'm sorry son. I'm sorry I brought you into this world."

His grimness didn't sit well with Peter. It was almost as if his dad was – almost as if he was apologising for giving Peter life. Had he seen something in his future that would have made it better for Peter to not be alive at all, that he'd be better off dead? The thought of it frightened and angered him.

"Okay dad, you're freaking me out. You have to – I don't think I can take much more of this, I can't – I'm not strong like you or Nathan, this isn't what – I'm only just holding everything in. I can't control it anymore, I can't control – I can't control what I do. It's hurting people, I –"

His father stepped forward and in a single stride, embraced him, making shushing noises as he did so. After a second of stunned shock, Peter found himself grabbing hold of his dad, holding on for dear life. Before long, he was sobbing like the small, delicate, sensitive boy he had been, tortured relentlessly at school and at home for his kind and soft spoken ways. Except now it was somehow okay, because his father was here and he was finally receiving that tender attention from him that Peter had always needed.

And all the while his father stood rock still, embracing his son like he'd always needed to be embraced. Was Peter dreaming? Never in his life had he thought his father could be so caring, so loving. Was he somehow caught in the clutches of someone who had the ability to foist illusions on him, make him believe what he wanted to believe?

If this was an illusion, Peter didn't want to go back to reality.

As his broken sobs stilled, Peter finally let go. Feeling a little embarrassed, he was relieved to find a smirk breaking on the other man's features. It beat disappointment any day. "I'm afraid you got that from me." He murmured, ruffling his son's hair fondly.

Peter sniffed, absently searching his pockets for a Kleenex. "Got what?"

"Your mother always complains I care too much about people. Thinks I'm too emotional. Which is why –" He smile dropped off his face.

"What is why – what?"

His dad turned away, saying distantly. "Which is why I'm so very sorry."

As grateful for the understanding his dad had just shown him, this conversation was getting Peter nowhere. "Sorry for what? Dad." He spun his father to face him. "Dad? Sorry for what?"

"I've seen your future. Part of it. It's how I was able to recognise you – know you. You'd have a hard time introducing yourself otherwise, huh?" His raven hair, lopsided grin, the dark, sensitive eyes – it shocked Peter how much they mirrored each other. He had never seen before what must have been obvious to his mother every day. Nathan had favoured their father in looks, but Peter had gotten all his gestures, mannerisms, smiles … his vulnerability.

Peter had always felt like a fish out of water but the truth was – so clear now – was that he had always belonged. He had never seen it because he had never seen his father like this – boyish despite his age, young and caring. A twinkle in his eyes, a skip in his step. What had happened over the next few years to make this man become the man Peter had known him to be? Grim, distant, forever critical of his youngest boy with the bright, dreamy eyes? The boy whose future he had known?

"Peter?" His dad peered anxiously at him. "You all right?"

What was it his dad had just told him? Peter couldn't tell him anything that his dad didn't already know and he supposed that included the way their relationship had degenerated over the next 25 years. Peter shook his head ruefully. "Just tired … exhausted. I've had … a long few days."

His father nodded, still keeping a firm hold on his arm, unwilling to let this spectre of his grown son go. "I understand. Now you must listen to me. You need to know something."

"What?" Peter leaned forward to stare into his dad's eyes, the way he'd always done with Nathan. The familiarity of it wasn't lost on him.

"You need to know – you need to know he can be killed."

Peter blinked, confused. "Who?"

"I don't know." His father sighed. "In my dreams, that's what I say to you. 'He can be killed.' That's all."

"Dad, you're not making any sense. Who can be killed? It's …" He was about to say crazy, but one look at his father's expression clamped his mouth shut. He was doing exactly the same thing that he hated others doing to him, treating him like he was crazy for having inexplicable abilities. It was hardly his father's fault that he didn't know anything else. He let out an explosive breath. "I'm sorry Dad. As I said, I've … I haven't had the best time of it lately."

His father nodded and Peter knew that he had understood enough to know that Peter was holding information back. Doing precisely what his father had told him. "There's … another thing. It doesn't make sense to me, but it may to you."

"What's that?"

"I had a dream last night, of a girl. A pretty little thing. Young, blonde. A smile that lights up a thousand suns." Peter's breath caught in his throat. "You need to know, you can save her."

He swore his heart stopped for the faintest millisecond before it resumed. His father could only have been talking about Claire and for a moment he thought he was going to warn Peter of … well, it was too awful to think about. But saving her – well, he'd already done so, three years before. His relief was palpable. "Thanks Dad. I … I've already saved her."

"That's good." His father nodded, frowning slightly. Before Peter could question him any further, his father abruptly said. "You have to go son."

"Why?"

"You cannot linger in this time. You must know this Peter." A sternness crept into his posture and for the first time that night, Peter saw the emergence of the father he had known. "The longer you stay here, the bigger the possibility of changing something in your past."

"I know."

"You have to leave. Now." Father and son glanced at each other, feet cemented to the floor. Rationally, Peter knew his father was right. But it didn't mean he was strong enough to do it. "Did you hear me Peter, you have to go!" His Dad roared.

Peter stared long and hard, trying to commit his father's features to memory. It felt important that he remember him as he was now, a determined and strong willed man, tempered by a gentle nature that had been completely submerged by the time Peter was old enough to remember him. He needed to remember his father this way because it somehow exonerated Peter, as if through this encounter he could finally justify his belief that his father, despite all their problems, had loved him as deeply as he had Nathan.

He turned to go but stopped when he heard his father call out. "Peter." He spun and was suddenly engulfed in his father's arms. "Whatever happens between us in the future, I love you. You're my boy and I'm going to do everything I can to save you." Without lingering, without giving him another glance, he strode quickly out of the room, softly closing the door behind him.

_"to be continued ..."_


	19. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

**"Resolution"**

Peter had only been gone for no more than a minute. But when he blinked back into the room with Hiro at his side, Claire gave an audible sigh of relief.

He had left in such a rush she'd had no time to prepare herself and even more stupidly, she had worried how he would do without her. Which was silly – as if someone Peter's age wouldn't be able to take care of himself without her around. He'd had so much to deal with in the past few days and his energy and willpower had been so depleted, she had been concerned about everything from his health to his ability to not kill people whenever he felt like it.

"Peter, thank god." If Peter was irritated by her over protectiveness, he didn't show it. Instead, he let her cling to him, not caring that he had somehow managed to get Hiro back. If anything, Peter seemed bemused by her attentions.

"Bennet, lay off him. He's only been gone a minute." Nathan chided. Despite himself, it was tinged with relief. She heard him cross to Hiro. "Welcome back."

"Flying man." Hiro said solemnly in greeting. Claire wasn't exactly sure when it had first started, but some time ago Hiro had taken it upon himself to always greet Nathan that way. Claire was so used to it now she didn't give it a second thought, but she remembered the first few times she had heard it, it had made her dissolve into a fit of giggles. It always made Nathan chuckle, something it didn't fail to do now.

Those who weren't familiar with it were puzzled, especially Hana. "Did he just say flying man?"

"It's a thing." Audrey deadpanned. "They have a secret boy scout code. Or something."

"Boy scout's not what I'd imagine the Congressman to be." Jerry jerked his head to the side. "Or Hiro for that matter."

It was only then that Claire was reassured enough of Peter's presence that she reluctantly let him go. She was being silly about it but she didn't care. She noted his calmer demeanour. "You seem different." His dark eyes met hers.

"I'll tell you about it later." He whispered, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

That seemed to be the cue for Nathan to gather everyone around. "Now that we have Hiro back, we need a plan." He looked solemnly around the room. "You all know why you're here. We need a plan to take down Linderman, and we need it fast. He'll know we've all met and he'll be ready."

Claire had never been an active part of any strategy sessions, which Nathan seemed to excel at. Peter usually led them out in the field as Audrey put it, but Nathan was their go to guy for anything that involved meticulous planning. His time in the Marines and his current job put him in a position that required him to use this particular facet of his character often. She was secretly convinced that he also loved barking orders out to people.

Predictably, the people with most input were the ones with backgrounds in law enforcement or violence. The discussion flowed thick and fast, but through it all Claire was content to listen to Nathan, Audrey, Matt, Hana, Niki and DL debate strategy. Claude, Hiro, Ando, Mohinder made contributions when necessary.

But everything that Claire had been through the last three days – being with Peter, the death of her mother and brother, her father's coma, then Peter's continued struggle with his sanity –had left her drained to the point of exhaustion. She found herself first drifting off and losing the strand of discussion, then becoming increasingly mesmerised by her fingers entwined in Peter's, as if they assured her there was at least one other person in this world she could rely on. She had lost so many people, and the fact was only just now starting to come crashing down on her.

That was when she knew she needed a time out. Claire excused herself but no one beside Peter really seemed to notice. She knew nothing about plans and security systems and the others were content to give her a break. They would clue her in on their plans when they were ready. At the end of the day, she was merely a foot soldier. She had never thought about herself in that way before, but it was true. She was ready to put her life – or more precisely, her regenerable life – at risk for the sake of others but she had neither the age nor the experience to help in planning fights.

She wandered into the kitchen, scrounging the cupboards for glasses and mugs. If she wasn't going to participate, she may as well make herself useful with refreshments.

She was surprised to hear Peter follow her. He was usually his brother's reliable second-in-command. "Are you okay?" She allowed him to spin her around, his eyes anxious.

"I'm fine. Just … a little tired, that's all." Claire didn't feel like explaining that what she meant by 'fine' in fact meant 'just holding on to her sanity by the faintest thread'. "What happened? How did you manage to find Hiro?"

"Luck." When he didn't elaborate, she turned and peered at him. "Okay. Luck … how?"

Peter hastily explained that, once he had teleported in front of Isaac's apartment, it had just been a matter of stumbling across Hiro waiting for him to appear. Peter's control of teleportation was woefully limited, but luckily Hiro's was not. He found their Japanese friend impatiently tapping his feet across the street, the most irritated he had ever seen him. Peter had even endured a blast of what passed as a temper tantrum from the normally placid Hiro, humbly acknowledging he had been an absolute idiot and to never do that to his friends ever again. And also to not teleport to the past until he had submitted to patient tutorial from Hiro himself, something which according to Peter Hiro had threatened to last several months, if not years. "And then he said if I didn't promise he'd tell Nathan. As if that was going to scare me into not doing it again." Peter muttered.

"It will though, won't it?" Claire asked pointedly, smiling despite herself. "Even I know that. Besides, he and Nathan are so tight. You know he'd completely do it."

"Well –" Peter handed her some mugs from the top shelf, then sighed. "Maybe. But you don't have to tell Hiro that."

They busied themselves with fixing tea, coffee and sodas in silence. "Peter, what happened?"

He didn't bother asking what she meant. They knew each other too well. "I saw my dad." He said in a rush.

"What do you mean?" She stopped in the middle of turning on the kettle. "When? How?"

"Just before I managed to teleport to Isaac's, in the past. I'd, ah, misfired." Claire wanted to snigger, but seeing his expression held back. "I found myself upstairs, in this house. Except, in the past." He swiftly told her of running into his dad and their conversation. When he got to the part about his father's cryptic message, Claire furrowed her brow in confusion.

Peter talking to his father in the past made her made reel. Everything about time travel defied logic, something Claire had always had trouble grasping. Which was one of the reasons why she admired Hiro so much. The enormity of his responsibility was so overwhelming, it would have suffocated a weaker man. "Who was he talking about? 'He can be killed'? Who can?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm not sure. I … I've been thinking about it though. It could be Sylar. Could be Linderman. I don't know."

"Why can't these sorts of messages ever be clearer? I mean, 'save the cheerleader, save the world?' And now 'He can be killed'. Like – what the hell?" Peter smiled wanly, nodding in agreement. "So you think it's either Sylar or Linderman. Do you think Sylar's going to do something – bad? I mean – we let him go. He helped us. Do you think –?"

He shook his head vehemently, coming forward to embrace her. "No, we didn't make a mistake. I don't think it's Sylar."

"Then Linderman?"

She could almost hear Peter frowning. "Maybe. But why would that be important? It's almost as if –"

They abruptly dropped their conversation when Peter's mom came into the kitchen. Angela looked from her son to Claire, irritation crossing her features. "Oh for heaven's sake, you two couldn't have made it more obvious I'd walked into something if you'd held up a sign. Should I excuse myself while you finish?" She asked a tad snidely.

Peter stared at Claire, his eyes bright. Then, coming to a decision, he crossed to his mother and kissed her cheek. "No mom, you weren't. In fact, it's a conversation you and Nathan should know about."

Angela appeared momentarily pacified. Seeing them together like this made Claire yearn for the mother she had lost. It was true that people didn't know what they had until it was gone. "So, what's this all about?" Peter led her to the kitchen table and sat down. Claire silently brought them two cups of coffee, freshly brewed by Nathan's state of the art espresso machine.

Peter gently told her about meeting his dad. When he had finished, Angela grabbed her son's hand, her dark eyes murky pools of sorrow. "Mom, are you okay?"

She nodded. Claire and Peter looked on in compassionate silence until Angela had recovered enough to speak. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Mom?"

"Your father." She explained, casting soulful eyes his way. "He said to me when you were born. 'This is Peter. He's going to be a wonderful man.' When I asked what he was talking about, he just shrugged. I just thought it was his cryptic way of telling me what he wanted to name you. But later, he told me, he actually met you before you were born." No one saw fit to comment on the ridiculousness of the statement. "Dreamed about you coming to him, telling him what you did."

"Is that possible?" Claire asked quietly.

"It was with Anthony." Angela replied fondly, absently taking Claire's hand with her other one. "I had to get used to a lot of crazy things happening being married to Peter's father. It … it wasn't the easiest gift to control." Claire silently agreed, noticing the parallel from father to son.

They sat in silence for a while. "Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Anything." Her hand grazed Peter's. "It seems it's time for all our family secrets to come out of the closet."

"I don't understand. Dad was never – I mean, he always – he always seemed so disappointed in me. But the man I talked to – he was more like me than I thought possible. And he wasn't – I mean – I guess, he treated me like a son. Like he was –"

"Oh Peter." Angela cried passionately, stunning both Peter and Claire. "You never understood your father. He loved you – he loved both his sons."

"But I was never good enough for him. My marks at school, my friends, what I did at college, my career –"

"You still don't understand? Even now?" Peter shook his head mutely. "He was so proud of you, proud for the man you'd become. But he knew – he knew your future. He never told me." She pre-empted his interruption. "He never told me exactly what he saw, but whatever it was made him worry incessantly. Made him – I don't know, resent the world. I think looking back – I think he always pushed you away, was so hard on you – he knew your future. Knew the kinds of things you'd go through. He wanted you to be prepared for that day, to be prepared for when things got rough. So he tried toughening you up."

"Toughen me up how?"

"By pushing you away." Angela explained impatiently. "He saw you were so gentle, so sensitive. Knew how much you'd suffer. So he tried being harsh, to prepare you. He hated what he was doing, hated the world for making him do it. Hated what it meant for your life, he knew you'd never have a normal life. It made him …" She couldn't bring herself to finish.

"It made him depressed, is that it?" Peter asked, guilt and horror rising on his face. "You told me he suffered from depression all his life, but that's not true, is it? He only got that way because of me. The man I talked to wasn't depressed at all, it's all my fault."

"Don't be stupid, of course not." Angela snapped, for which Claire was grateful. She knew Peter well enough to know he had been about to descent into a spiral of guilt, because somehow everything that went wrong in the world was Peter's fault. He had a martyr complex, something she wanted leeched out of him by any means possible. "He'd always been prone to dark thoughts."

Claire turned a careful eye on Peter, noting he at least appeared to have accepted his mother's assurance. "Mom, do you know what Dad meant? That he can be killed?"

Angela shrugged. "I can only guess he was talking about Linderman. We'd always assumed ..." Her eyes grew distant, wistful. "We always thought he couldn't be killed. His power – life and death. We always thought he couldn't be killed."

"You'd always assumed he was like me?" Claire jumped in excitement. "Like me, that he can heal. If he could heal things – then he should be able to heal himself. But maybe he can't and that's why –"

"That's why he wants Claire so badly." Peter caught onto her excitement, identical grins breaking out of them. "He wants Claire to complete his powers. And if he can die, if he can be killed –"

"We can win this." Claire finished. "If he can be killed, we can win this."

"Pity he didn't tell you how." Angela's dour response brought them crashing back down to earth.

To Claire's surprise, Peter saw the positive side. "Claire's right. At least we know he can be killed. That's got to be something. We should let Nathan know." That effectively killed off their conversation. Angela pleaded a bad headache and retired to her room, leaving Claire and Peter sitting silently in the bright kitchen, the chiming of the grandfather clock in the hallway keeping time.

"Are you okay?" Peter pressed again, gently brushing bangs out of her face. "You look tired."

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Claire asked ruefully, covering his hand with hers. "You're the one who travelled through time, remember?"

His dark eyes, so confused and tortured over the last few days, burned with renewed fervour. "I'm asking _you_. You've been through so much …" He leaned closer, looking deeply into her eyes. His expression – a mixture of realisation, sorrow and wonder – touched her. She blinked back tears, stubborn droplets of emotion that she had kept in check because it had been necessary. "I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you. Everything – and I just added to it."

She moved to interrupt. "No, let me finish. Please." She nodded and Peter pressed on, cupping her face with his hand. "I want you to know that, no matter what happens, I'll always be there for you. I can't promise it'll be easy, but I'll always be there, forever."

It was funny that even after all this time, he still made her palms sweat, her heart ache with longing. It was like she had known this handsome, sensitive, caring man all her life, had somehow known him even before they met on that fateful night in Odessa. "Peter …" Her voice was shaking with emotion, but Claire didn't care. "Don't say you're sorry. Just promise you'll always be there with me."

He gently drew her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "I will. I'll be there until the end."

* * *

After a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes – at Peter's stern insistence – Claire felt a lot better. More importantly, she had lost the helplessness that had begun to plague her and instead felt ready to leap back into the fray, metaphorically speaking.

She was also relieved that Peter had seen the sense in his own advice and had done the same. When she rejoined the others in the living room – rechristened the war room by a weary Ando as she happened upon him in the kitchen stocking up refreshments, to which she had lent a hand – a plan appeared to have been formed.

Nathan brushed a weary hand over his eyes, gratefully accepting the coffee Claire pressed onto him. The group had adjourned for a much needed break. "Thanks." It was a sign of his exhaustion that he couldn't muster any of his trademark sarcasm.

Claire threw him a quick smile. "What's the plan Chief? We going to take down Linderman or what?"

Something like his old smirk crossed his face. "Something like that. If you and Pete can lend a hand."

"I'm sure that can be arranged." The flippancy of her words belied all their worry. Everyone looked to Nathan as a leader in a crisis – family or political – but no one, not even Claire before today – ever thought about the enormous pressure this must have placed on him. But after hearing what Peter had told her of the little boy running around playing GI Joe in the hallway, she realised that Nathan probably found it as hard as anyone else. The difference was that he had willingly shouldered the burden because it was expected of him and he was capable of doing what had to be done.

She glanced instinctively at Peter who was immersed in a deep, albeit silent conversation with Matt on the other side of the room. _"Peter?" _She called out, trying something she hadn't done before. _"Matt?"_

If they hadn't all been so tired, she was sure she would have laughed at seeing both Peter and Matt's conversation still, their faces turning to her at precisely the same moment. _"Just testing." _She smiled sheepishly, before gesturing to Nathan. "_Nathan looks like he really needs a break." _

Peter nodded and both he and Matt crossed the room to join Claire and Nathan. "Nathan?" Peter was careful to keep his tone neutral. "How's the plan looking?"

"Like shit." His brother barked, jaded and resigned. "I'm sure Parkman's filled you in. We've got all the intelligence we need except for the part about how we're going to take Linderman down."

"Dad said Linderman can be killed."

"I know, you told me that 5 minutes ago. And 5 minutes before that. It doesn't exactly help when he don't know _how. _It wouldn't have killed him to have been more specific."

"Maybe he couldn't. It's not his fault."

"Yeah well, it sure as hell isn't mine!" Nathan erupted, abruptly halting all the conversation in the room. He glanced once around, noting everyone's drawn faces. "Excuse me."

Claire exchanged a glance with Peter before he ducked out after Nathan. She took the opportunity to talk to Matt about the plan they had come up with so far.

The others had pooled their knowledge and abilities. Hana and Micah – over Niki's strenuous and almost violent objections – had been instrumental in gathering information on the Linderman Group, especially The Corinthian in Las Vegas. Everything from the current schematics of the casino, the number of security guards, detailed schematics and models of the installed security systems, and even the location of safe rooms not part of the original plans. They had even hacked into some of their databases and obtained security details that would allow some of them to wander legitimately through the casino, something that would surely come in handy.

"It's going to be risky. He'll know we're coming, he'll be ready. We just don't know how. There'll be a lot of security, but we can take care of that. It's the – well, the specials – that we're worried about."

"Matt." Claire looked up into his kind eyes, gentle strength mingling with grim determination. "What about Janice? Your son? Aren't you –"

"If anything happens to me I know you guys will take care of them." Matt said grimly, giving her a squeeze on the shoulder. "It's something that has to be done. I won't let other people risk their lives for me when I'm not prepared to do the same. And neither will Nathan. It's not in us. Having a family – I care about them, but it shouldn't make our lives worth any more than yours."

She nodded, moved by his sense of duty. She knew they all had something to lose from this. It highlighted the enormity of their gamble and the tremendous sacrifice they were about to make if things went wrong. Which is why she would do everything in her power to make sure things didn't go wrong for these people, this unique group of individuals that were well and truly her family now.

As if to emphasise her point, Nathan strolled back into the room flanked by Peter, both grim, determined and spoiling for a fight. It was at times like these that their family resemblance really illuminated the bond between the brothers.

Their presence stilled the steady hum in the room. Expectant eyes turned to Nathan and Peter, including Claire's and Matt's. "We'll go through the plan one last time. Then we'll finish this once and for all."


	20. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

**"Why We Fight"**

"Nathan." Peter scurried after his brother hurriedly strode outside, flinging the French doors to the patio wide open. The fresh breeze that swirled against him almost seemed to cleanse the remainder of the fog in his mind. "Nathan!"

"What?" His brother rounded on him, tired and jaded. He was also swaying slightly, a testament to his fatigue.

"You need a break." Peter gently chided.

"We _are_ on a break." Nathan leaned against the wall, breathing in the fresh scent of roses wafting from the rose garden below. "We only have a few minutes."

"Then you should rest." From experience, Peter knew his brother wasn't going to do anything he didn't feel like doing. But that didn't mean Peter couldn't try, and it wasn't as if he didn't have a way of getting his stubborn brother to do what needed to be done. "The plan's in place. You've gotten us this far. One person can only do so much."

"We've planned everything but how to kill that son of a bitch." Nathan muttered darkly and confessed. "I have no idea how we're going to do that Pete."

Peter blinked in the bright sunshine. The juxtaposition of their situation against the brightness of the afternoon was jarring. "Well then, we'll just have to come up with a way to do that, won't we?"

It was a role reversal, something Nathan cottoned onto immediately. "You trying to calm me down, Pete?"

"Yeah."

Nathan glanced at him, a strange, proud look on his face. "Well it worked." He tousled Peter's mass of dark hair just like he used to when Peter had been a boy looking up to his much older brother. "Mohinder suggested we use his vaccine. He's been working at it on and off the last few years. It could come in handy. What do you think about that?" He eyed Peter shrewdly. "You're the only person he's ever tried it on."

"The one he used on me?" Mohinder had offered a vaccine to Peter when he thought he had been about to explode three years ago, one of several things they had tried during that dark period. Unfortunately, it hadn't done anything besides bring out Peter's latent abilities, as well as cause massive amounts of pain that would probably have incapacitated him if not for Claire's healing power.

"Claire said it blocked your abilities for a day, didn't it? If this thing isn't over in 24 hours –"

"Nothing else is going to matter." Peter finished. He crossed his arms, coming to stand by his brother's side. "You're right. It did block my abilities. Worked really quickly too."

Nathan perked. "How quickly?"

"Three, five minutes maybe." Peter shrugged. "Not more than five. Hit me like a ton of bricks, if Claire hadn't been there –"

"Then Mohinder's right, we can use it." Suddenly Nathan straightened, the gleam back in his eyes. "We can use it to neutralise anyone with special abilities that we come across. Put it in a modified long range rifle." He paced back and forth. "We can set up two snipers in key positions. I can do that, I've had training. Maybe Niki too. Wait until the vaccine takes effect. After they're neutralised, it shouldn't be hard to take them out. That son of a bitch won't be able to hide behind his army after that."

Nathan started to head back inside, but Peter stopped him. "What do you mean, take them out?"

There was a dangerous pause. "What do you think I mean Peter? This isn't a game, this are our lives. Our families' lives. I'm playing for keeps. You have to be willing to play for keeps too." He stepped forward, placing firm hands on Peter's shoulders. "I know this isn't what you wanted, I get that Peter. But you need to step up, we need your abilities. There can't be any doubt in your mind about what we're doing."

"There isn't." The tumult of the past few days hadn't given Peter a chance to tell Nathan everything he'd been through, everything he had done. If only his brother knew that the man he was talking to had killed in the last few days, in cold blood. Of course, he'd killed before this week too – the most obvious being Sylar, who maybe didn't count as technically he didn't remain dead – but this week had been different. He had lost control of himself and his abilities, doing unnecessary things to inflict pain that no one, including Peter, would have thought he had been capable of before.

Nathan peered curiously at him before letting go. "Good man." He quickly turned and headed back into the living room.

Their presence stilled the steady hum as expectant eyes turned to the brothers, including Claire's and Matt's. "There's been an adjustment. We'll go through the plan one last time. Then we'll finish this once and for all."

* * *

The plan was now officially in motion and everyone knew their roles. So there was absolutely no reason why Peter felt so lost.

He shouldn't be feeling this way. It was ironic really, that the person endowed with the most abilities felt the most helpless, vulnerable even. Everyone must be feeling fear and uncertainty about what they were about to do. But was it right that he was also feeling this way? The others were going to be relying on him for support and even help. He needed to be at the top of his game, not wrestling with doubts about whether he was up to the task.

He knew he was finally losing his marbles when he caught himself wishing Sylar would join them in their fight.

"Hey." He turned, tense muscles relaxing in the presence of Claire's smile. He could always depend on her to sense when he was down. "You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He asked ruefully, taking her hand in his. They were in the backseat of a rented SUV racing towards their rendezvous point with Hiro and the others, a SUV Nathan had commissioned to pick up at a car rental just outside Las Vegas after Peter had teleported his contingent there. Commissioned had been a polite way of saying that he had practically ordered them to rent it to him despite the last minute nature of the reservation, not taking no for an answer.

They were in the car along with Audrey and Claude, who had chosen to ride with Nathan, Peter and Claire. Matt, Hana, Gavin and Mike were tailing them in another car. As agreed, Niki and DL were on their way to Jessica's hidden stash of weapons in the Nevada desert with Hiro, Ando, Mohinder and Jerry along to lend a hand with transportation. Micah and Angela had been bundled onto a plane to Switzerland to rendezvous with Heidi and Nathan's two boys out of harm's way.

"Maybe." Claire smiled impishly, reminding Peter just how small she was. Her tiny frame, barely five feet tall, had been through so much in her short life. "But that doesn't mean you aren't entitled to it either."

He was grateful to her for being there, something he hadn't said in a while. He glanced furtively to the front, noting that the others didn't seem to be paying much attention to them – at least those he could see. There was no telling what his mentor was doing. "Have I told you lately how much you mean to me?"

Her delight sizzled through his veins. It was incredible that even after everything they'd been through, she still meant so much to him. "Maybe. Doesn't mean you can't tell me again."

Peter leaned forward, planting butterfly kisses on her lips and cheek. "I mean it Claire." His kisses trailed down the crook of her neck, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. "You mean everything to me. I hope you know that." His face dipped onto her shoulders as he inhaled her scent, that delicious mix of strawberries and sunflowers that was just so uniquely her. His kisses trailed back up as he whispered into her ear. "I love you."

The combination of his caresses and words left her breathless. She gave a sweet little laugh, colouring bright red as she did so. Her emerald eyes shone, words coming out in soft, lilting gasps. "I love you too Peter. You knew that before, didn't you?"

He smiled, tenderly tracing a finger over her lips and cheek. "Of course. We love each other. We always have." They were smiling at each other like they hadn't smiled in days, and their kiss was just as heaven filled.

"Can you two kids stop making out? It's making me sick." Audrey said sarcastically, although she was smiling. Her forced joviality wasn't lost on anyone. They were all aware that their figurative number could be up today, and no one was keen to draw any more attention to it than necessary.

Peter was flustered into submission, giving Claire a wink as they disentangled from each other. The colour had returned to her face, the pallor from the stress of the last few days having disappeared for the moment.

They were able to eavesdrop on the conversation between Nathan and Audrey at the front of the car. Claude predictably, had chosen to remain invisible. Knowing his long time mentor, there was no way for Peter to tell whether Claude was sleeping or sniggering at his student's expense.

Nathan's voice boomed at the front of the car. "Seriously Hansen, you don't have to do this."

"What the hell are you talking about Petrelli?"

"Hey, that's Congressman Petrelli to you." There was a slight pause. "I mean about this. You're FBI, you can't be involved in this."

"You're a Congressman." She rejoined. "I don't see you holstering your weapon. If I'm going to get a smack down for being involved, then I get a smack down."

"This could ruin your career."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then why –"

"Look, didn't you say every man counted? You're getting another man, what's your problem?" They stared down each other. Peter was glad he wasn't caught in their crossfire.

Nathan sighed in capitulation. "Fine. It's your funeral."

They soon reached the rendezvous point in the middle of the Nevada desert. The landscape was predictably dry and barren. It reminded him of his panicked state when he'd awoken from his coma three years ago and bolted out of the hospital, the vision of causing an explosion that would wipe out half of New York sufficiently clear for him to book himself a flight to Nevada. Strange how three years later, he'd finally gotten here.

They reached their meeting point in record time. Or perhaps Peter was so preoccupied with running scenarios of the upcoming battle in his mind that he lost track of time. It was only when Claire lightly brushed his arm that he realised they had arrived. "Peter?"

He brushed her bangs from her face. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead. "I'm fine. Just … going through stuff in my mind." A tendril of her concern spiralled towards him, thoughts that Peter wasn't quite quick enough to stop himself reading. "Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

"Did you just read my thoughts?" She was far from being offended, which was rare. It was something they had fought about often in the past. Fleeting thoughts and feelings were much harder to hide than wholly formed motives.

Claire followed Peter as they hopped out of the car, eyes squinting at the glare from the bright sunshine. Nathan looked on, bemusement on his tired face. "What do you two think you're doing?"

They turned, Peter closing the door behind him. "We're getting out of the car."

Claude's voice drifted over, muffled by the window. "You idiots. It's the desert. It's about a hundred degrees outside." Peter also thought he heard "morons" rolling out of his invisible mentor's mouth, but he couldn't be sure.

Before Peter could retort, Hiro, Ando and Mohinder popped into view. In fact, Hiro had teleported them so close Peter and Mohinder's noses were almost touching. "Hey! Watch it."

Hiro at least had the decency to look amused. "Sorry." He muttered something to Ando, who chuckled just as the other car containing Matt, Hana and the others arrived.

"What?" Peter got the feeling he had just been made fun of – in Japanese no less – and felt abnormally irritated by it. Ando shrugged and ignored him, watching Hiro teleport back to transport Niki and DL with their weapons.

Peter always hated this part. Playing the game of what ifs that always made him want to chew his own arm off; the build up to a climax that wasn't quite in sight. He almost wished the fight could come to him right here, right now. That way, he wouldn't have doubts plaguing him, wouldn't see the faces of his friends and family looking to him for protection, full of hope that he was their salvation.

Of course, that kind of thinking almost always got him into trouble, a fact that both Nathan and Claude always called him on. He knew it was the truth, but it didn't stop him from feeling guilty for every single thing that happened to go wrong during one of their outings. When people got hurt, it was almost inevitably due to some lapse in judgement on Peter's part. And although heaping that responsibility on himself wasn't fair, it also wouldn't have been fair to unburden that on anyone else even if it was possible. Peter didn't want to wish his life on anyone, even on his worst enemy.

Hiro promptly teleported into view with DL and Niki in tow, as well as a sizeable stash of weapons and ammunition housed in a large wooden crate. Hiro's ability had grown from strength to strength, evolving to the point where he was able to teleport several people at once along with inanimate objects of varying sizes, not to mention studiously being able to transport himself to different points in history. Only Peter and perhaps Matt could really appreciate just how much skill that required; it wasn't anywhere near as simple as blinking in and out of sight. Hiro made everything look so easy. Peter wished he had that degree of control over his own haphazard ability.

He sighed. If he only he had that kind of control over his abilities, people he loved wouldn't be in danger nearly so often. If he only could guarantee his abilities worked like they were supposed to, perhaps not all of his friends would need to put themselves in harm's way today.

This was precisely what Peter had been cautioned against. The game of what ifs or maybes, uncertainties that would cripple him in a fight.

_"Don't do it to yourself man. None of this is your fault. You're not responsible." _

Peter turned and nodded at Matt who was staring at him intently. The other man gave him a flicker of a smile before helping Audrey and Nathan unpack the crate.

"Holy mother of god, I don't even want to know what you've got in there." Matt grunted as Audrey whistled. Nathan eagerly strode forward to inspect the weapons. His face was set with grim determination and for the first time, Peter saw what his older brother must have been like as a Marine. His possessive control transformed at that moment into calm leadership; this was something his Petrelli bred ruthlessness could be put to good use.

DL grinned mirthlessly as he used a crowbar to pry open the wooden crate Hiro had teleported with them. When the lid was sufficiently loosened, Niki was able to fling the lid clean off the crate.

They stood around in a tight knit circle, peering curiously inside. Niki grinned and picked a couple of Uzis from the top of the pile with practiced hands, casually brushing away some RPGs that dotted the crate. Claire's breath hitched beside Peter as they both looked down, floored by the arsenal Nathan thought was required to win against Linderman. Peter shared her uneasiness over seeing so much weaponry lying casually not five feet away from them.

Claude predictably was the one to break the hushed silence. "Where the hell did you get all this stuff blondie?"

Niki frowned into empty air. "I told you, this is all Jessica's. Looks to me she felt the need to set aside a few things in case she needed it."

"More than a few things." Hana muttered, although along with Nathan, her military background was such that her reaction was one akin to relief than panic.

"Can't say as I blame her." Nathan added, his eyes afire. He picked up a couple of automatic weapons, caressing them in appreciation. "Thank god for Jessica's paranoia."

"So, just to make it clear, not all of us need this stuff, right?" Claire whispered, one hand grasping Peter's arm, the other resting lighting on Hiro's shoulder as she peered between the two of them. He and Ando had similar stunned looks on their faces, as did Mohinder, Jerry, Gavin and Mike.

The silence in the Nevada desert was so profound Nathan caught her whisper as it trailed across the dust to him. "No, not everyone." Nathan repeated tersely. "Just for those who can handle it. And that doesn't include you or Peter, so quit staring. Only those with weapons training." To emphasise his point, he glared directly at his younger brother.

He needn't have tried convincing Peter. There was already more than enough ways Peter was capable of inflicting bodily harm on others without adding an automatic weapon to the list.

Claire put her hands up in mock surrender, backing away. "I wasn't going to try to touch any of this."

"Good." Niki strode to them, ironically handing Claire, Peter and the others side arms. "You guys have handled pistols before, right?" Off their slightly panicked expressions, she softened. "These don't kill. They're tranquiliser darts, you just need to point, and shoot." She demonstrated. "You see? Point and shoot."

Claire gulped as she stowed hers away for later use. Personally, Peter didn't know what the hell he was going to do with his; he had enough problems controlling his own powers to go borrowing more trouble. But if Nathan wanted them to all have a back up chance of survival, he would have to trust that.

Hiro was all set with the sword his father had recently given to him and Ando was more than happy with his more conventional pistol. Nathan took a sniper rifle for himself as well as a couple of stun grenades. Nothing seemed to remain of the polished Congressman with the killer smile. He had left his finely tailored suits in New York, preferring a loose khaki shirt and trousers teamed with sunglasses that betrayed nothing of his inner turmoil.

Only Niki was more fully armed than Nathan, loading herself with Uzis, knives and a whole bunch of things Peter couldn't quite identify but was sure was deadly. Teamed with superhuman strength, she was going to be a force to be reckoned with.

Nathan cast weary eyes onto Mohinder as he retrieved a leather case from his rucksack. It was full of the vaccine he'd developed for Peter over three years ago. "Is it going to work?"

Mohinder nodded. "I've modified it. It'll work almost instantly, I guarantee it."

"Is that a money back if I'm not completely alive guarantee?" Claude voice grated from thin air, making Hana chuckle grimly. Audrey and Nathan glared in his general direction, while Matt's eyes were calm and still.

This was it, the moment of truth. Wind whipped them in the harsh sunshine as Peter took a moment to absorb the tension permeating the atmosphere.

He thought the strain was finally getting to him when he saw something black blinking in the distance. It was only a tiny flicker at first, but then it got larger and more frequent. He realised it wasn't actually flickering but rather something jumping in and out of view, with each second closing the vast distance to the waiting group.

Ando noticed it too. "Look." He pointed, drawing everyone's attention to the phenomenon.

It took less than a second for them to find out the source. Peter swore that he heard an audible gasp ripple through the group as a man blinked into view, his tall, lean frame swathed in a black trench coat.

Sylar grinned at their shocked faces, his dark eyes meeting Peter's in the light. Claire was the only one besides Peter who didn't shrink from his presence. "You guys need a hand?"


	21. Chapter Nineteen Part I

_Author's Note: _Obviously, copius apologies for having left it so long since the last update. I lost the groove for writing this fic and became distracted with other fics in between (one of them still continuing). I've been touched by all the inquiries I've gotten about Salvation and believe it or not, I've found my groove! So Salvation is officially back from unintended Hiatus!

This is a small part, but hopefully it will tie you over until the next update.

**Chapter Nineteen**

**"End Game" **

**Part I**

To call what erupted in the wake of Sylar's appearance as pandemonium would have been an understatement. While some like Nathan, Audrey, Hana and even Niki and Hiro reacted by reaching for their weapons (and almost firing or using them), the rest visibly blanched, cautiously taking a step or two back.

Claire's only concession to shock was to grip Peter's hand harder; he in turn reacted by tightly squeezing her hand. This wasn't her first encounter with Sylar over the past few days of course; their last conversation in Odessa after Peter's collapse was actually something she was really proud of. First for surviving intact, and secondly for actually thinking he had been coherent and understandable from a non-psychotic murderer point of view.

"Let him sleep." Sylar had said as he easily deposited Peter onto the bed in the motel. His presence was enough to make Claire's skin crawl and not in a good way. She had wanted to get away from him as fast as possible or failing that, stab him in the neck with the Odessa Motel pen, then run away as fast as possible. A part of her recognised that having Sylar on their side helped their chances against Linderman a huge deal. But actually having to deal with him was a whole other matter. "He'll need the rest for what's ahead."

Claire had glared at Sylar across Peter's unconscious form, hating the fear rolling off her. She was a 20 year old woman trapped in the same motel room as a known homicidal maniac – entirely by choice. Only her feelings for Peter had stopped her from screeching at the top of her lungs or making a panicked call to Nathan or Hiro for help.

"You're right to fear me." Sylar had said, still with that obnoxious calmness pervading his every word as he crossed to the window, absently peering through the blinds.

His calm acceptance had infuriated Claire, who bit back rather harshly. "Thanks for your permission. You only murdered a bunch of people by slicing their heads open. And oh yeah – you wanted to do the same to me. So forgive me if I'm not happy you're standing three feet away."

"My time will come." He spun suddenly, his eyes glinting. Despite the temperate climate, Claire's blood had frozen momentarily seeing the darkness and evil lurking just underneath the surface. "Don't you worry about that. My time will come."

"What does that even –"

"We don't have time right now." Sylar strode forward and it had taken every ounce of Claire's courage to not back away. "I'm going to leave. We need to know what they're planning next. What their next move is."

"How?" She forgot momentarily who she was talking to. "My father's in a coma, my parents are dead. You – you _blew up _their warehouse or lab or whatever. Where are we going to start?"

"You leave that to me." Their eyes had met in the dim room, afternoon sunshine having yielded to dusk. "You need to make sure he's safe. He's the key."

"Wait, you –" She had been about to ask why Sylar didn't think he mattered, but stopped at the last second. She had remembered who she was talking to and putting aside disbelief she was actually having a conversation with Sylar – every second that ticked by they were becoming more enmeshed in chaos. She needed a tether, a purpose – and Peter was both.

"I'll track them down." Claire hadn't needed to ask who he meant by 'them'. Sylar was the perfect choice to track down the people who had attacked them, those who had almost succeeded at burning them all alive at the warehouse.

Sylar had opened the door to go but Claire stopped him at the last moment. "Wait." She blinked, hardly knowing what she was doing. "When you find them –"

"You'll know." Was all he said, before disappearing from view.

With this conversation still fresh in her mind, Claire hurled herself in front of Sylar, ironically making it easier for him to slice her head open if he had been so inclined. Luckily for her, he wasn't. She knew if she didn't intervene Sylar would be pumped full of bullets before the words "I'm here to help" or some variant of them came out of his mouth.

Not that she was overly keen to save the life of the man who had murdered Jackie three years ago. But with the odds stacked against them in a fight to the death with Linderman, she was going to make the others take all the help they could get, even if it was from someone who had tried killing them all before.

Unexpectedly – or maybe expectedly, Claire wasn't sure why she was surprised any more by how in sync she and Peter were – Peter had jumped in along at the same time, effectively blocking Sylar from harm. They stared mutely at the others as they squared off, Claire having to avert the looks of disbelief being hurled at her.

"Get out of the way Peter." Niki gritted, the blade of a really, really large knife gleaming in the harsh sun. "This bastard almost killed my family, he's not doing to be drawing another breath." She strode forward, knife gripped firmly until she was almost nose to nose with Claire. "Get out of the way." Claire didn't move. "I mean it Claire. I'll do it."

"No!" Claire and Peter cried in unison. She spun around and their eyes met, set in mutual determination. "We need him." She gazed around, spying Matt at the periphery shielding his eyes from the sun. "Matt, you can read his thoughts. Is he going to hurt us?"

Matt looked nauseous at the thought of reading Sylar's mind, but Claire took the firm nod he gave her as agreement. Sylar stood calming, his eyes barely flickering in the silence.

"He's … I can't see anything." At Peter's confusion, he elaborated. "I mean, I can't see anything to be worried about. He hates Linderman just like the rest of us." He sounded surprised and oddly relieved. "Maybe even more."

"How do we know he's not going to come after us after Linderman's taken care of?" DL asked pointedly, glaring while clutching his side. Claire remembered it was the side that had been badly hurt by Sylar in their last encounter in New York.

"I don't trust him as far as I can throw him." Nathan gritted, casting a furious glance at his brother, then Claire. He looked livid; she wouldn't have been surprised if he started gnashing his teeth in anger.

"And believe me, I can throw him a hell of a long way." Niki murmured darkly, almost channelling Jessica.

"Enough." Surprisingly, it was Hiro who halted hostilities. "That's enough." As if to emphasise his words, he drew his sword. The blade gleamed brighter than Claire had ever seen it. "We don't have time for this. If Peter and Claire vouch for him, we have to trust them. We are a team – we are family. If we cannot trust each other, we will all be dead by the end of today." He glared at Sylar, somehow encompassing Claire and Peter in that glare. "Peter, you and Claire are responsible for him. If he hurts any of us, it will be your responsibility. Do you understand?"

Claire swallowed and nodded, noticing Peter's Adam's apple likewise bobbing. They rarely saw this side of their friend but when his ancient samurai heritage shone through, everyone knew it was wise to stay out of Hiro's bad books.

"Good. And you four." Hiro had not bothered to re-sheath his sword yet, pointing it grimly at Niki, DL, Nathan and Audrey. "You will not sow dissension. That will guarantee the failure of our cause."

Hiro didn't let up until everyone – including Nathan – reluctantly murmured angry agreement. Nathan and Audrey in particular looked furious enough to tear Sylar limb from limb with their bare hands and a part of Claire empathised with them. In many ways, the rest of them relied on Nathan, Audrey, Niki and DL to express the rage and fury of the rest of the group. It absolved them of the responsibility to do the same.

"Good." Hiro finally re-sheathed his ancient sword, muttering a string of what Claire imagined to be expletives in Japanese. Only Ando was able to understand and true to their friendship, the usually amiable duo strolled off together, their gait betraying their intense annoyance at what they clearly considered to be petty antics of people who were not focused enough at the task at hand.

Claire glanced at Peter with wide eyes, who in turn stared awkwardly back at Nathan, Audrey, Niki and DL. Hana and Claude, who had shimmered into view during the tense encounter, shrugged their shoulders and walked back to the car, followed by the other non-New Yorkers.

Claire, Peter and Sylar were the last ones to get into the remaining car, with Nathan and Audrey still fuming in the front. Clearly, they were all going into battle with the worst possible energy.

Although Sylar was close to 6'4" and Claire was barely 5'0", she wasn't intimidated by him anymore. At this precise junction they were almost equals, allies in the coming war. Even if there was a very real possibility that said ally would turn around and murder them all right after achieving their goal at hand, for now, it was okay to trust. For now.

There was blissful – if extremely cold silence – in the SUV as the Nevada desert rolled past. Fortunately, Sylar didn't feel the need to express any kind of gratitude. This was lucky because Claire got the feeling if he'd tried doing anything of the kind, Peter would be irritated enough to phase and leave Sylar through solid rock. Which would kill him and render what they had just been through a complete waste of time.

**_TO BE CONTINUED ...  
_**


	22. Chapter Nineteen Part II

**Chapter Nineteen**

**"End Game"**

**Part II**

The first move in their rather elaborate plan was simple. As the resident mind reader, Matt was deployed to an unobtrusive spot outside the Corinthian to pick out any clues to Linderman's location for that day. They had figured that, no matter how secretive the old man was about his location at any given time, someone somewhere was bound to know where he was, if only to be able to plan his famously erratic movements. What better place to start than at his own casino?

They had been strategically deployed around the block, just in case Matt told them to move quickly. They couldn't afford to miss their opportunity and those who they assumed Linderman had never seen or heard from before had been insinuated into the Corinthian as tourists. Which ironically, they were.

Matt had been part of enough stakeouts to know where to park to avoid being seen. In any case, Claude had been volunteered to sit with Matt and tasked to use his invisibility to shield their car in case anyone was looking.

"Are we sure this is going to work?" Claire murmured to Peter as they kept an eye on things from a nearby rooftop. "I mean, you'd think Linderman would be ready for this. He'd have a plan, something –"

"Hey." Nathan hissed beside Peter, glaring at her. "It's the best plan we have. We don't need you to knock holes through it right now."

She thought that was a really unfair comment, since they were all risking their lives for this, but she kept silent. They were staring down at empty space, where Matt and Claude had parked their SUV, now rendered invisible by Claude. They were relying on Peter to physically watch the parked car since he was the only person besides Claude who could actually see it; a task he wasn't taking lightly.

Claire was jittery and with good reason. This was a dangerous end game they were playing and if things went wrong, there was every possibility none of them would survive. There was so much on the line for all of them. She couldn't help but think that it was going to be down to a few moments here and there; that was all the difference between life and death was going to be.

There was also the small matter of the latest addition to their group and more importantly, the intelligence he had brought with him. He was now on the roof with them, observing Matt quietly – looking at what she didn't know, seemingly oblivious to the tension he had created.

She had tried not to be distracted by his presence – tried not to notice him full stop – but Sylar's presence had been off-putting. Peter had refused point blank to even acknowledge his presence in the SUV on the way to the casino, doing something probably only Nathan and Claire had understood. He wasn't being malicious; merely ensuring he wasn't going to be distracted by anything or anyone he shouldn't be.

After an extremely uncomfortable silence in the SUV – a silence Nathan and Peter were determined not to break – it had been left to Claire to discover why Sylar had chosen to join them here and now.

It was sad really, that all of them couldn't generate enough naivety and belief to not question why Sylar had chosen to join them in fighting Linderman. Even Claire, the youngest of the group after Micah, couldn't shake the horrible feeling that settled at the bottom of her stomach that Sylar was here for his own unfathomable reasons. More so than the others, she and Peter probably knew the most about his grudge against Linderman, but Claire wasn't nearly gullible enough these days to not question the help Sylar seemed too willing to him. Yes, she understood that he had been for all intents and purposes, tortured for almost three years. But he was surely powerful and cunning enough to take Linderman on his own? He was, after all, the same sick man that had tried to kill her at Homecoming all those years ago.

She had taken it upon herself to swallow her fear and talk to the man who had been responsible for a large proportion of her nightmares for the past five years.

It had been the most uncomfortable conversation of her life and that was saying something, considering how much mess she had managed to cram into her life in 21 years. Sylar, although reticent and reserved (an understatement considering she knew first hand just how reserved Peter's family could be) delivered his information in short, sharp words.

He still gave her the heeby jeebies and the odd, sick sensation that he wasn't to be trusted. But she believed him, believed what he had told her about his intelligence on Linderman, which was why she was frowning at Nathan now.

"We should –"

"Don't start that again." Nathan hissed, turning only to glare at her. "You want us to throw away the plan we've geared up for, for him?"

"He's been trailing Linderman, he knows better than us. He says we're walking into a trap, he knows –"

Nathan uttered a string of abuse that would have made a sailor flinch. Claire had seen too many drunken dinners at the Petrellis though and too many of those glares to be cowed by them anymore.

It did, however, break Peter's concentration. He jerked slightly like he was waking up from a deep dream and blinked several times, before settling on Nathan and Claire locked in their furious stand off. "Guys –"

Peter, for once, wasn't the centre of her attention. "I thought _you _were the military guy Nathan. You can't just ignore stuff that people tell you, just because you don't like the person telling it to you." She was starting to shake from anger now. "It's not like we have to completely change our plans. We just need to … I don't know, change it a bit."

"That's right, I forgot you were a tactical genius." She hoped he couldn't tell how much his sarcasm stung. He was Peter's brother and in many ways, a surrogate older brother to her as well. To hear him speak like that to her was more galling than she wanted to let on. "Oh and by the way, we never thought about what we'd do if we were walking into a trap. So thanks for reminding me Bennet."

This time, his retort hit home. Tears welled in her eyes, and she hated him for making them come. What gave him the right to speak to her like that?

But he didn't stop. Nathan was like that; once he was on a roll, he had to keep going. Wild horses and all that. "What do you want us to do, huh? Risk our lives based on whatever that madman said? I don't buy it, and I don't want to tell Janice how her husband died because we trusted the guy who _takes brains out of people_!"

"Hey." Peter finally stepped in, placing himself between her and Nathan.

"Back off Peter, this isn't your fight."

"The hell it isn't. Don't shout at her like that."

"So you agree with her? You think we should act on whatever _Sylar _tells us? You trust him?"

There was a long, loaded silence. The longer it stretched, the wider Claire's eyes got. He didn't agree with her. He didn't have to say anything; the hollowness in his eyes betrayed him.

She was disgusted, with him, with Nathan and with herself. They were a rambling mess of individuals right now, utterly disorganised with absolutely no idea what they were really up against. They had been backed into a corner, pursued by a cruel organisation that had left them no other choice but to fight.

But fight what? They were willing to risk their lives on one gamble, one end game as Mohinder had called it, but it was all a lie. Their entire plan was based on uncertainty, conjecture and estimates as far as the eye could see. Their entire plan was based on confronting Linderman and if push came to shove, to kill him.

But what would that achieve? What if his organisation was stronger than him, that even after his death it'd continue to survive and come after them?

Claire could see Nathan's point, she really could. She was too tired of this, too tired to fight both him and Peter on this one. She had lost her entire family this week – God, she couldn't believe it was only this week – and her body still reverberated from the shock of it. She almost – _almost _– didn't have it in her to care anymore.

Shockingly enough, or so she would've thought even an hour ago – she turned to their other companion on the roof. Claire couldn't tell what Sylar thought of them debating his veracity right in front of him. Not that she gave a damn at this point.

She shifted, the wind whipping her hair as she peered at the man in question. Contrary to their collective anxiety, Sylar neither paced nor chewed his lip or smoked to drain his tension. He stood rock still – so still in fact, she began to wonder whether he was engaged doing something else. Using super sensitive hearing, sniffing the air maybe. Nobody could be that still, that calm and not be doing _something_.

"I'm not." His voice was neither too loud nor too soft; just audible enough to carry across to her but not loud enough to attract unwanted attention. She turned her head sharply, earning a pointed look from Nathan as he gripped his modified sniper rifle on the other side of Peter. "Thank you, by the way."

She couldn't help herself. "For what?"

"For … listening. About Linderman."

She shivered, turning away from him. The mere thought of him being within striking (killing) distance no longer scared her, but it didn't mean she was going to be less edgy about it than she had to be. He was still a killer. It was only the accident of circumstance that their objective currently coincided with his. Who knew what he'd do if – and that was a big if – they managed to take Linderman down?

She didn't know but trusted, despite their fight just then, that Nathan would have formed a plan for that eventuality. Claire couldn't worry about it now because she was going to follow Peter to the bitter end no matter what.

She knew one thing for certain though. If Linderman didn't kill them, this endless waiting might.

But they continued to wait, and watch, for Matt and the others to tell them what their next move should be.

**_to be continued ...  
_**

* * *

_Author's Note: _Once again, apologies for the huge delay between updates. Real life has been atrociously busy - in both good and bad ways - and I haven't so much as touched fanfic for ages. But I am very conscious that Salvation has been going for ages now and I assure you this fic WILL be finished. I absolutely hate it when WIPs aren't finished and I'm determined to not let it happen to my own fic. 


	23. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty "Sacrifice"**

Things had taken on an underwater-like, surreal quality. Peter was drowning, miles from shore and unlike three years ago, this time no one – maybe not even Claire – sensed just how close he was to sinking under forever. 

They were still on the roof; his consciousness zoning in and out with every millisecond that ticked by. He knew he had been less than attentive since they had regrouped in the Nevada desert, his distraction not helped by Sylar's sudden and continued presence. 

He didn't know why he was here, nor did he have the energy to delve further into it right now. His shoulders had already become hunched, weighed down by the mere thought of the responsibility that could descend on his shoulders at any time. 

God and his family knew he had never been prone to flights of arrogance – but in every sense of the word, Peter was their go to guy. One mistake from him or if Linderman had found a way to neutralise his powers and their entire enterprise could crumble like the house of cards their plans were. 

So he had only become aware of the flaring tensions when Nathan and Claire had started bellowing at each other in the blazing sunshine. Tempers obviously had run high during the interminable wait and Peter had to step in, breaking up the inevitable fight. 

There hadn't been any time to address the issue of Sylar though because one minute he had pulled Claire over to talk privately and the next, a disembodied message from Matt distracted him again. 

_"Target is on the move." _

Matt's calmness reminded Peter what was at stake. His friend's soft voice also succinctly told Peter everything he needed to know about the situation. Linderman hadn't done anything spectacular beside turning up on his own hotel, probably making a few rounds to greet various high rollers. A normal day for him, according to Nathan. 

He relayed Matt's message to Nathan and Claire, Nathan passing it onto Niki, DL, Mohinder, Hiro and Audrey at other locations. All of a sudden, their rather impulsive plan was in motion. 

Nathan gestured to Peter that it was okay to relay their response back to Matt. He hadn't been practicing telepathy very much lately and he wasn't entirely sure Matt would receive it under normal circumstances. But he had diligently practiced with Claude and his old mentor had succeeded in tormenting Peter just enough to be confident that Matt would indeed, hear Peter's message. 

Which wasn't to say that a sigh of relief didn't escape when he saw Claude exit the car on the street below, slamming the door and grumbling without caring whether he was attracting attention. Matt, ever the diligent officer, frowned deeply after Peter's former mentor and was much more discrete when he got out of the car. 

"We're good to go." Nathan mumbled behind him, unlatching the safety on his rifle. If Peter didn't know his brother better he would've thought Nathan was talking to someone. He wasn't though; he was reassuring himself that everything was going to be fine. 

Peter wasn't worried because Nathan was at the helm. All his life he'd trusted Nathan and he wasn't about to have second thoughts now. The people they had assembled were good, solid individuals. He trusted them almost as much as he trusted Nathan and if his brother trusted them, then Peter did too. There was no way Nathan was going to include them in a plan to protect his own family if he also didn't trust them implicitly too. 

Peter glanced at his watch. If things were according to script, Matt should already have contacted Gerry, Gavin and Ando, already inside the Corinthian. Now that Linderman had shown up, their sole role was to spot Linderman's protection detail and if possible, confirm which members of his entourage had special abilities. 

Claude had also been tasked to find then following Linderman inside the hotel – invisible of course. For their crazy scheme to work, they needed to hit Linderman when and where he least expected it. What had worried Claire – and Peter now that he'd had the chance to think about it – was what they would do if Linderman had a counterattack planned. A man like his father's old friend would never have left his own life to chance. Coupled with his ability over life and death and his extensive financial and other resources, Peter was anxious that he and Nathan had missed something vital that would cost someone their life. 

"What's happening?" Claire had crept up beside him, slipping her small hand in his. She was grim despite the bravado she was putting on. But Peter knew her better than that. She unconsciously hugged herself, arms to her chest, tense and anxious. She was scared and with every reason to be so. Wordlessly Peter drew her close, wrapping his arms around her. 

"They're in." Was all Peter said, careful not to allude to the tension. She nodded and shivered, the vibration reverberating against him, a physical reminder of the emotional intimacy they shared. What she felt Peter felt; so it was apt that her fear and tension were reflected in his body as well. 

He shivered, glancing at Nathan still and motionless against the rising breeze. Niki, DL, Mohinder and Hiro soon joined them in their grim vigil, statues in the lengthening afternoon. 

It turned out locating Linderman wasn't the hard part. It was spotting his security detail, and identifying specials in his entourage that proved to be more difficult than anticipated. 

So much so that it was starting to give Nathan, as he had said many times into Peter's ear already, "the god awful fucking shits." 

"Relax." It felt like the millionth time Peter had said that to his brother that day. It wasn't helping matters that Nathan steadily ignored him every time. 

"Don't tell me to goddamn shut up." Nathan gritted, giving him a dirty look. Like it was somehow all Peter's fault they were in this crazy situation in the first place. "It's too easy, there can't be only two guys with him. It isn't enough. There's something else, I just – can't put my finger on it." 

They were now loitering casually – or attempting to do so – skulking in the shadow of a building facing the service entrance of the Corinthian. Matt had communicated a few minutes ago that Ando and the others had given visual confirmation of Linderman. What puzzled and confused Nathan was that Linderman only appeared to have two bodyguards with him. Both were built like Mack trucks and armed to the hilt, quintessential bodyguard types – but they had expected more. There were no suspiciously light weight individuals around, suggesting that his security detail included no specials. 

Which annoyed as well as confused Nathan, who in turn scowled at Peter, playing his part of the human communications system. Hadn't his brother ever heard of the expression 'don't shoot the messenger'? He half-expected Nathan to whip one of his many firearms out to shoot him just for the satisfaction of hurting someone. 

Which would not have been ideal, especially for Peter. 

"It's not possible, there _has_ to be someone else." He shot another dirty look at them, this time at Audrey. Unlike Peter though, she didn't take any of his crap. 

"Don't look at me like that Petrelli." 

He ignored her. "Linderman is a guy who'd be fully protected at all times. There's no way he'd leave himself open like that." 

Audrey pondered for a second. "If he can be killed –" 

"If he can be killed, there's no way he'd leave himself open." Nathan finished, his face more worried than annoyed now. 

They also hadn't be able to contact Claude since he had entered the Corinthian and with each growing second of silence their anxiety increased. Audrey had brought along what surveillance equipment she had been able to borrow from the FBI, equipment everyone but Peter and Matt had been using to communicate. 

Audrey had also suggested they could help with background checks on people they suspected were part of Linderman's organization, concerned that people would be stationed around the casino incognito for just this kind of ambush against him. She had suggested – told them really – that she would be in charge of running the checks until Peter pointed out that Micah's ability would allow him to use her equipment that much faster. 

"That's for letting us know, champ." She'd said, not bothering to temper her sarcasm as she turned her back on him. Sometimes she was so like Nathan he wanted to deck her. 

He did however give her a dirty look and couldn't help his smirk when she shoved the equipment towards him. 

Even with part of his concentration scanning the FBI databases, his gaze landed on Claire as they inevitably did, who had drifted off into her own thoughts again. He didn't blame her – her role in their plan was unpredictable. Once Nathan gave the okay to attack, they had been told she would be "leading the charge" (in his sensitive brother's words) to Linderman if anything went wrong. 

It had been code that everyone had understood, including Claire. She was their back up, their safety net, in case Peter was killed or otherwise neutralised. Which was something he knew bothered her a lot, but there was really nothing they could do. He was secretly glad she'd only be put in danger if he was out of commission. 

It wasn't a selfish thought; he was using it as the ultimate motivation. Because there really was no way on god's green earth he'd allow himself to be taken out, not if that was the difference between protecting Claire or not. 

She could instantly heal but that didn't mean she wasn't killable. He loved her too much to even contemplate her getting hurt in all of this, or having to bear emotional scars that her physical healing had no way to regenerate. 

"Peter, are you done?" Nathan gave him yet another dirty look, which he ignored stoically. "If we knew how long you'd be taking with this, Hansen could've done the rest." 

"Almost." Three years ago, he would've been cowed. Nathan had a talent for pushing Peter's buttons, but now he took it all in stride. It was probably Claire's influence on him, but these days he had a lot more confidence in himself. Nathan couldn't ever make him doubt himself like he had before Claire had come into his life. "If you have someone else who can do this just as fast, be my guest." 

That shut Nathan up and Peter was able to get the rest of the checks done. Before his protective parents had shipped him off to Switzerland with Nathan's family, Micah had taught Peter how to access two or more different systems at the same time, so Peter was able to keep an eye on Linderman's whereabouts through the casino's own security system. 

Peter did agree with Nathan that it was turning out to be suspiciously easy. He'd never met Linderman – not even when their dad had been alive – but from what little he did gather the man never travelled without a full security detail. But he shook the feeling off. If they kept on questioning themselves, it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy; if they doubted any more, they'd be effectively signing their own death warrants. 

Peter had only just finished when he got another message from Matt. _"He's in his office, the smug bastard. Can't see what he's up to."_

Sylar stood off to the side, his face keening towards the sky. It was almost as if he was listening intently – which occurred to Peter that maybe he was. 

_"Super hearing?"_ Matt asked incredulously, scanning Peter's mind. _"Is everyone as worried as I am about what that guy may do once he gets what he wants?"_

Peter didn't know where and how Sylar had acquired this particular power – and really, he didn't want to know who the poor soul was he'd taken the super hearing from – but it was coming in handy at the moment. As Nathan and Claire had argued about before, what Sylar may or may not do after their mission could be moot if they were unsuccessful. 

So he ignored it. _"What's he doing?"_

_"Not much. Shuffling papers."_ Even inside their heads, Peter felt Matt's hesitation. _"I don't know man, this doesn't feel right. It's –"_

_"Too easy, I know. Nathan agrees." _

_"Feels like a trap." _

But was there anything they could do at this point? They had committed themselves and evidently Matt agreed because there was silence on the other end. 

They didn't have to wait long. Claude appeared suddenly around the corner. He was grinning from ear to ear which struck Peter as highly inappropriate given how worried they had been. 

"Where the hell have you been?" Audrey demanded. 

"We've been worried sick, asshole." Niki jumped in, shoving Claude hard enough against the building to make even Sylar turn. 

His former mentor shrugged nonchalantly as he dusted himself off, not deterred by the glares from the two blondes. "Busy." He motioned Nathan into silence before his brother could begin his inevitable tirade. "I found out where your man will be, so I'd shut up before you piss me off." 

Nathan, Audrey and Niki's only response was to grow increasingly incensed. Even Hiro looked ready to use his sword on Claude. They nevertheless remained silent which Claude took to be tacit agreement. 

"Good. I followed the old bugger to his office, logged onto his computer. Turns out he's gearing up for a leisurely one on one with a special lady friend this weekend." 

"Er –" Peter could hear the question flowing from Nathan even before he uttered it. 

But before his brother had a chance to interrupt, Claude brusquely continued. "Hasn't anyone told you not to interrupt your elders? In any case, your man's going to be at his estate just out of town with this certain lady friend. And I'd _suggest_ you take my suggestion and relocate your attack out there." 

"You mean _our_ attack." Claire's eyes narrowed dangerously. 

"No, I mean _your_ attack." 

"Okay, stop it." Peter thought it was a bit rich for Nathan to be playing peacekeeper but he did have a point this time. "We either go or not. We decide – now. We can't afford to waste any more time." 

"Go? Go where?" Niki and DL had been content to keep to themselves, conducting whispered conversations while they waited. But now it was time for a decision. 

"Go to Linderman's vineyard." Nathan replied crisply as Audrey nodded back, indicating which way she would vote. "We take him out there, where he least expects it." 

Peter was about to recall Matt and the others out of the casino when Claire of all people chimed in. Peter had never seen her take much interest in strategy or combat related matters. "Don't you want to consider this more?" 

"No." 

"It could be a trap. We're all thinking it. Just that nobody's willing to say so." 

"Of course I know it could be a trap. But what choice do we have?" 

"We could take him in the casino. Right now. No more waiting." She turned to the others. "Hiro, Mohinder?" She didn't find any support from that quarter though. Hiro stared steadily back at her while Mohinder ducked his gaze. 

"Sweetie." Luckily it was Niki who spoke; during the last few years she and Claire had formed a strong bond despite their ages. "I agree with Nathan and Audrey. Linderman isn't a man to have only two bodyguards. He'll have people hiding in the casino, I'm sure of it." 

"Yeah, but if it's trap out –" 

"_If_ it's a trap, at least we won't be able to accidentally hurt anyone." Nathan replied ever so smoothly, tempering Claire's impatience. "If we stay here, we'll be able to. Hurt people if they get in the crossfire." 

She couldn't argue against that and he knew it. Peter sided up, wrapping his arms around her. It had been a long day and they'd all been building up to the attack. To have it suddenly delayed or relocated was unsettling, but he was willing to trust Nathan. 

"Fine." Was all Claire said, shrugging Peter off. 

Nathan only glanced at her once before nodding to Peter. "Do it. Get the others back here, now. We okay it with them, we go in." 

Peter looked into the anxious faces around him. It made him uncomfortable being around so many nervous people. They were friends, but they also happened to think really loudly. He wasn't sure whether he could put his feeling into words even if his life depended on it. The only two people that could possibly relate or empathize were Matt and Claire, both of who were standing beside him. 

He glanced surreptitiously at Claire, surprised to see how calm she looked. Instead of the withdrawal that had tempered her usual determination, she was calm. Serene, confident even, down to the way she was standing. Upright and erect, like they could do no wrong. 

Peter couldn't share the same confidence. With every passing minute he grew increasingly anxious and worse still, jittery. He wanted so badly to just _do_ something. Toss someone out a window, burn someone alive, shoot lightning from his hands. Fly away and leave everyone behind, as fast and as safely as possible. 

Given his track record this week, this kind of feeling didn't inspire much confidence, least of all in himself. There was a kind of itching, burning sensation running throughout his body, almost willing him to take some action. His hands flamed with it, his blood rang loudly in his ears. He could almost hear the sweet sensation of unleashing all that pent up raging torment of energy that had propelled him to do the unthinkable this week. 

He didn't want to be part of this. And to be completely honest, if his own family and loved ones weren't inextricably tied up, he just might have flown away. With Claire in his arms, fly back to his somewhat odd but usually quite normal life. 

But that was the point, wasn't it? His family were involved; Claire was involved. They were targeting all of them and this was why people like Ando and Mohinder were willing to risk their lives to see this plan through. 

Matt pulled him aside. Which was strange considering they could talk directly to each other in the most private of conversations. _"Are you all right?"_

It was mere courtesy; Peter was sure Matt had already gleaned his confusion in one, broad thought. There wasn't a good reason to lie. _"No."_

As they stood outside the impressive gates of Linderman's estate in the growing darkness, he knew it was entirely too late to be having second or third or fourth thoughts. They were all here, ready for the last act in this game of Linderman's devising. Everyone except for Claire and oddly, Sylar, had agreed that their chances of getting to Linderman increased significantly outside the city; Claire had rightly pointed out that the estate was also home ground for Linderman. Peter admitted she had a point but as always, deferred to Nathan's better judgement. 

Ando, Gavin and Jerry along with Claude, had gleaned as much information as possible from Linderman's associates. There didn't seem to be many, at least not inside the Corinthian and since time was against them the group had made the call to relocate to the estate. 

Sylar had also proved helpful, not that Peter would have believed it an hour ago. The one glaring weakness in their revised plan of attack was that they did not have another way of approaching the estate beside storming the front door, which everyone agreed was out of the question. 

"There's another entrance you know. From the far side of the estate." 

Because no one had expected him to speak, the only response he got were stunned expressions. 

"What do you mean?" Niki looked sick addressing the man who had put her in hospital the last time they'd fought, but she kept herself together. 

"I mean, there's another entrance. I think you'd rather ask me how I know." 

"Well that's another good question." Nathan grimaced. 

"I followed him when I got out. Did my own research." He was so still, so emotionless, Peter found it hard to trust him. This was beside the fact that the man had accumulated his powers through cutting people's brains out of their skulls. "Ask Claire. She knew what I was doing." 

That was a surprise to everyone, including Peter. He vaguely remembered Claire telling him about her conversation with Sylar after his 'episode' in Odessa, but he hadn't known how much talking they actually did. The thought of Claire having to take on the burden – the responsibility - that Peter had dropped by not controlling his powers – was horrible to think about. 

He swore he wouldn't do it to her ever again. 

Claire nodded; she didn't even seem perturbed. "I thought we've been over this? Sylar's – he's here to help. He told me he was going to find more information on them. If he says he knows another way … I mean, I thought we've been over this?" 

"We have. And it's time." Hiro interrupted, a note of finality in his tone. "We've wasted too much time already. We need to end this – once and for all." 

_**to be continued ... **_


	24. Chapter Twenty One Part I

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**"Fading to Black"  
Part I  
**

Claire was secretly dying inside and she wondered why no one could hear her screams.

Peter was beside her just like he'd always been – just like he always will she suspected – caring and stoic, forehead matted in concentration. She knew she could count on him to do anything to protect her, and for that she was glad. She had no one left besides Peter and his family.

Which were her family now in a weird sort of way. The whole marriage thing hadn't crossed her mind yet, but she'd rather pointed comments from Nathan and Heidi before everything had fallen to pieces; even Angela had innocently remarked that St Patrick's was incredibly hard to book for a date less than a year away. As the matriarch had not-so-subtly put it, "we don't want any babies coming along inconveniently."

She knew Peter was The One, although she'd cringe if she ever heard him described to her that way. She doubted whether he had ever really thought about it, but she certainly had.

She didn't know why she was thinking about it now though. She couldn't stop her teeth from chattering despite the temperate climate. They were psyching themselves up for an assault on Linderman in his very own estate, going in virtually blind as Audrey and Matt had said. They had done all their reconnaissance on the Corinthian but because of Claude's last minute intelligence, they relying solely on what information they had managed to glean that day.

For all anyone knew the whole day could have been a carefully constructed trap. They had thrown away all their careful plans and instead bolted into the great unknown. Granted, she hadn't had anything to do with said plans, but she trusted Nathan, Hiro and the others. They would have planned everything to as close to perfection as possible, leaving very little to chance.

She didn't know why no one besides Sylar had been so ready to cast away their plans for this flight of fancy. It wasn't a good sign that Claire, usually one of the more headstrong and impulsive people in their tight knit group, seemed to be the only one questioning it. The irony wasn't lost on her.

Her thoughts weren't helping either. Since her last blow up with Nathan, she had withdrawn from the action, content to hang back. It was almost as if she was trying to distance herself from whatever was about to happen. Claire wasn't usually prone to melodrama, but she definitely did not have a good feeling about this plan.

The stakes were so high they were incalculable. She had already lost her father, mother and brother, and even Isaac had been taken from her. She wasn't prepared to lose Peter as well. It would destroy her, emotionally if not physically.

When Nathan had broken the plan to her back at the house, he had been uncharacteristically kind, explaining in soft, hushed tones why she had to be Peter's backup.

The implication had been clear, even to someone who wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box like Claire. She would have to step in if things went to hell and Peter was "neutralised".

Nathan had been so clinical, like he hadn't thought about the possibility of losing his brother. To him, Peter being "neutralised" was like a military resource being put out of commission. She understood he'd had to frame it that way for his as well as her sanity; it was the only way Nathan could remain objective. But Claire didn't have it in her, and she had been fretting about it since. The mere thought of it – now that the final moment was potentially just around the corner – almost paralysed her.

She hated feeling this way. She was screaming and screaming silently and no one, not even Peter, heard her.

He couldn't have, of course. She'd been careful to not think about it, not think of the possibility. She had filled her mind up with everything _besides_ Peter – worrying about the plan, picking fights with Nathan about Sylar, thinking about Sylar and when he'd drop his Gabriel Gray act to murder them all while they weren't looking. But now this was it, their equivalent to D-Day and she couldn't deny the truth any longer.

Peter was preparing to "neutralise" anyone the group encountered once DL worked out how to unlock the service entrance. Claire, Matt, Ando and Mohinder would be staying outside while Peter, Nathan, Niki, DL, Hiro, Audrey, Hana, Jerry and the others would attempt to hunt Linderman down inside. Even Sylar would be going in, as no one else had knowledge of the layout of the house.

She glanced at Peter, his expression telling her that he was collecting and recalling the vast power he had at his disposal. He had once told her that his brain was like a filing cabinet that had to be regularly ordered and tidied, otherwise everything would be in chaos. Powers, perceptions, his mind would be too jumbled up to operate.

She knew he was afraid to access and use too much of that power. She'd seen first hand how destructive a force Peter could be should he choose to unleash the army of abilities he had stored away. What was worse than Peter unleashing all that power was the thought – no, knowledge – that once unleashed, there was a large part of him that relished in it. Killing and maiming for the joy of it all, and it hurt her to think of him being crippled by that thought. She knew Peter like he'd known himself; knew that if he lost himself to that temptation, if only temporarily, he'd regret it for the rest of his life.

As it was, he would already have plenty to regret. He had killed people for the first time in a long time – in cold blood too – and the repercussions would stay with him forever.

She grabbed his arm, nails biting into smooth skin, thoughts bursting like a flooded dam. He smiled as he placed his hand on top of hers. His confidence seeped into her, just a little. Enough to steady crumbling nerves. _"I'll be careful." _

She had no idea what she'd been about to say until she'd said it – well – thought it. _"I love you."_

She couldn't remember the last time she had said it to him. Somehow it was important now that she say it. It was important that he hear it.

His bewilderment spoke volumes. It was probably the last thing he had expected to hear. _"I love you, always."_

Her desperation was pathetic, even to her. But they were down to the wire and if she didn't say it now – who knows when she would get another chance. If there was one thing life had taught her, it was not to take anything or anyone for granted.

So she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, softly. A kiss to last a lifetime, if it came to that. "Be careful."

"Ready?" Nathan said as DL emerged from the shadows. A slight creak was the only sound that betrayed the service entrance opening.

Peter swallowed a few times, looking in confusion from Claire to Nathan. She knew Peter wanted desperately to respond, to say one last thing, but knew they didn't have the time. It was important he take a moment to concentrate, build up his powers. Everyone needed him to be at his best.

He was the last to go in. She tried thinking happy thoughts but that was too much of an ask this time. The best she managed was a watery smile; the door closed before she could glimpse the expression on his face.

* * *

Claire paced in front of an exasperated Matt.

She didn't have a watch – great lack of foresight on her part there – so she had resorted to pacing as a way to keep time. Unfortunately for Matt and the others waiting outside the fringe of the estate, it was frustrating and annoying as hell.

"Can you stop it?" Matt glared at her in the darkness.

"I can't help it." She hissed back, oddly relishing the confrontation.

"I'm not playing your games." He replied tartly, turning from her. "I need to concentrate in case Peter tries communicating."

She made a non-committal sound, turning her attention to Mohinder. He was staring intently into the communications equipment Audrey had set up for them to monitor their progress, alternating between that and his trusty notebook while Ando was resting his head between the gates of the estate, eyes flickering with every movement of the trees in the breeze.

They were only a few seconds at most from helping, should their help be needed. Peter and Matt had been in constant contact since they had broken into the house, Peter communicating to Matt the layout of the place. At the same time, she knew Audrey and Nathan had been steadily talking to Mohinder about the very same thing through their ear pieces; Mohinder was to help with any immediate research should they need it.

Everyone was doing something useful except for Claire. She would only be needed if someone died, which was not a terribly cheery thought.

So she paced. And paced. And paced, until Matt made a slight, jerky movement.

"What is it?" Claire wasn't the only one whose attention was riveted. Mohinder and Ando were looking at him and they didn't have to wait long.

"I can't – wait, I can't –" Matt's head jerked from side to side, as if trying to hear above some commotion. He waved her questions away. "Something's happening, I can't – I need to hear."

It was all he said before rushing to the service entrance, planting his ear to the door, as if that amplified the volume in his head. Which as far as Claire knew, did no such thing.

"What –" Before Ando had to complete his question, Mohinder's eyes grew round, his words bringing a chill to her bones. In the absolute stillness, Claire could hear panic – high pitched voices emanating from Mohinder's ear piece, voices that could only have been Nathan or Audrey.

"Oh god."

"What?"

The short moment of silence was the longest she had experienced in her life. "You were right." He looked up at her, eyes anguished. "It's a trap. The whole thing was a trap."

His words stunned them. It was as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs and the entire world began compressing into her. She couldn't breathe, somehow she couldn't breathe. What if it was Peter? What if he'd been neutralised? What if –

"We need to get them out of there." Ando was the first to respond coherently, unlatching the safety on his pistol. He had never handled a weapon before but he now did so with grim determination. "Tell us where –"

"Here." Mohinder thrust two earpieces to Claire and Ando. "You'll need them. I'll tell you where."

After so much waiting, being thrust into action so suddenly was like jump starting a really badly serviced car. She felt gluggy; like she was moving underwater with no breathing equipment to sustain her. "Okay. Okay." It was as much to reassure herself as well as to let Mohinder know. "Just tell me where I'm needed."

* * *

She'd had Peter and Matt inside her head, so having Mohinder there – as well as everyone else minus Peter and Matt – wasn't altogether such a strange experience.

What surprised her though was the ease with which she recognised all the voices. They were all so distinctive. It was hard to believe that Claire hadn't known them her whole life.

Mohinder's British inflection for example, was soothing and calm despite its undercurrent of panic. "Claire, you need to help Niki and DL. They're cornered in the library, go straight down the hall, take the first left. Ando, go with Claire and help Jerry. Hana's hurt –"

"I'm on it." She heard Ando reply next to her as they raced down the narrow corridor. Thanks to Audrey and Nathan, both Claire and Ando knew the service entrance led straight into a large, airy kitchen, only a short step away from the ground floor library.

The only question she had though couldn't be answered. "Mohinder, is Peter –?"

"I don't know." Mohinder's crisp words brought her questions to a halt. She knew he was only doing what was best for them right now; deploying resources to their best effect. They had no time for personal concerns.

"I'm sorry –"

"The library's next door up." She could hear the hesitation in his sharp, warm accent. "Matt says Peter's going straight for Linderman. Hiro and Nathan and the others have gone to help Niki and DL. They're … pinned down pretty bad."

That was everything Claire needed to clear her mind. He was alive at least. "How many?" She was surprised by how calm she sounded, despite shaking like a leaf inside.

Mohinder paused for so long she became convinced he had missed her question. Just before they reached the library though, his voice came through loud and clear. "Twenty or more. They're trapped. It – it isn't good."

She nodded, swallowed a few times even though her throat felt scratched and raw. They ran and soon skidded to a halt, eyes alert for any sign of trouble.

They needn't have bothered though; the explosions, detonations and the smashing of furniture inside would have pinpointed the location of the fighting even without Mohinder's guidance.

"How do you want to do this?" Ando's lips were pursed tight, the hand holding his pistol shaking uncontrollably. Claire wished she could help him but she was having trouble keeping down her lunch as it was.

"Stand back." She gritted, prepared to use herself as a human battering ram. Before she could though, a body came crashing through the door, effectively doing her job for her.

Claire's subconscious registered the body instead of her horrified mind did. Lying in the tangle of wood splinters was Audrey, blonde hair streaked with a freshly flowing river of red. She lay still, unmoving.

Her neck had been broken and her glassy eyes were even now fading into lifelessness.

They stared down at their friend in horror, paralysed by grief. Claire wanted to turn back, run the other way, away from this hell they had willingly entered into. At the same time though, she wanted vengeance. She wanted to grab one of those stupid idiotic Japanese swords hanging in the hallway and spear someone's heart out for what they had done to Audrey.

She wanted to see blood and gore and was prepared to be the one to cause it. If only she had argued against this course of action harder, gone up against Nathan and the others, and not hung back like the scared little girl she had been.

What could she have done? She should have prodded Sylar into fighting against this plan more, schemed and begged for them to listen to her. Somehow gotten Peter onto her side and together they could have stopped this, stopped Audrey –

She hadn't done any of that, and now Audrey – her often grouchy but genuine, honest and steadfast friend – was gone. And it was all Claire's fault.

Mohinder must have heard the screaming in their vicinity – or maybe it had been Ando or Claire screaming their hearts out without realising it – but he was now shouting into her ear, trying to get someone's attention. Maybe he sensed something terrible had happened; maybe Matt had sensed something off about his partner and wanted Mohinder to find out what had happened to her.

Matt. Oh God.

Claire's heart broke for him. They all knew how deep the bond between Audrey and Matt was; how deep their friendship ran through the long years since they had first met. Much like Peter and Claire, their friendship had been sealed a few years before.

"Audrey's dead." Ando responded quietly as he knelt beside her lifeless body, carefully avoiding Claire's gaze. "She's dead."

The cracking silence told Claire everything she needed to know; to forget. It was no longer the time for thoughts; it was now time for action. She couldn't stomach the blow that had been dealt at Matt; couldn't stomach who else could be hurt in all this mayhem.

Without looking at Ando, without allowing herself more time to think even, she hurled herself through the remains of the door, somersaulting into chaos. She assumed Ando would follow her lead, albeit in a more cautious way. She didn't check though; she was sure that he would do whatever needed to be done.

She was hit immediately with an electric shock of some kind, thrown at her from behind. Not stopping to break her rhythm, she blindly reached out and grabbed the first thing she could find, throwing it in the direction of her attacker to block her second attack.

It gave her time – precious seconds, but time nonetheless – to evaluate the situation in the room. What she saw was even worse than she feared.

Mohinder's – or rather Matt's – information had been all too correct. The library was an enormous, circular structure, topped with frosted glass that served as a domed sun roof. Orange, reddish dusk light filtered through, gilding the rich furnishings with a dull red gleam. The walls, which would normally have been lined from top to bottom with rare, leather bound books Claire guessed, had been scattered and shredded into a million irretrievable pieces, almost completely destroyed by the fight that was still taking place.

She also saw what Mohinder had meant about them being hemmed in. The library was double storeyed, with an ornate spiral staircase winding up to the mezzanine level on one side. The door to the upper levels of the house was blocked – by design or otherwise – by the collapse of the nearby section of roof. The only person besides Peter that could have removed the debris and rubble would have been Sylar, but he was nowhere to be found. Nathan could possibly have flown out, but as far as she could tell from one brief glimpse of him defending DL on the floor, he wasn't leaving any time soon.

The only other exit point was effectively blocked off by Linderman's private army. They streamed through the open French doors, clad entirely in black, unleashing stream after stream of attack that her friends were struggling to fight off.

Niki, Hiro, Jerry and the others were trapped in the middle of the room, right underneath the domed roof. It appeared that Nathan had flown in to help them. On the floor inside their circle of protection lay DL, Hana and Gavin, who all appeared as mannequins coated with blood. Claire hoped they were still alive even as she recoiled at the attrition.

She hadn't realised really until now, that total annihilation was a possibility.

Hiro's brow matted with sweat and Claire would have laid bets that he had stopped time and teleported numerous occasions already. Although powerful, his ability was limited to his intense concentration and even Hiro was not beyond being tired when push came to shove. And Claire was in no doubt that there was a lot of shoving at the moment.

The door Claire had just burst through would be their only viable escape if they managed to get the others through it. Which was a good thing she had decided to burst in so dramatically.

"Ando, go help the others!" Claire managed to get out before being hit again. Her right side ripped with burns; it felt like the electricity was melting her skin off. But a millisecond later it was gone and Claire's skin was as fresh and soft as the day she was born.

And therein lay her power, a power that had developed exponentially over the last three years. It only took a few seconds for her to completely regenerate now and that made her entire body a deadly weapon.

Gritting her teeth, she focused her attention on her attacker who had been standing by the fireplace but now ducked and rolled out of the way. Unphased, Claire strode to the fireplace to where the black clad figure had been, picked up a poker and advanced toward her attacker swiftly.

Using the moves Niki had patiently drilled into her in what seemed like another lifetime, she began to swing, leap, jump and roll, anything that would get her close enough to strike. The fight was nowhere near as exhilarating as her practice sessions with Niki had been. Instead of gearing up for some imaginary danger, the life of everyone she cared about was at risk and there was no room for her normally klutzy self to make an error.

She figured that if it was really Linderman's plan to cultivate her DNA for her ability, she would be safe from actual death for the moment. Not that losing her life necessarily worried her, she was just acutely aware how important it was that she _not _fall into Linderman's hands. Her goal here was to get everyone the hell out, not fight to the death. All she needed to do was help give Niki, Nathan and Ando enough time to get the injured out of dodge.

With this mind, she tempered her increasing recklessness, slowing her pace down a fraction to match those of her attacker. The girl – woman, whatever – was icy and detached. Claire wondered who she was and why she was willing to side with Linderman like this. What had the old man promised to get her to kill for him?

Suddenly the woman's hand whipped out, a lightning bolt zooming from her outstretched hands. Quick as a flash, Claire ducked and rolled – not away from her, but to her – getting her close enough to take a hearty swing at the woman's kneecaps.

The woman fell to the ground in agony clutching her knees, giving Claire the chance to stand and place a both feet on the woman's wrists, preventing her from unleashing anything onto her.

The woman's screams of pain seemed familiar to her and it only took a second for her to know why – she had heard it before. This was the same woman that had attacked her, Peter and Sylar in the warehouse, part of the same group that had almost succeeded in killing them.

Would all this have happened now if they hadn't been so – so terribly humane – and just fought their attackers to kill? Had Peter, in killing his assailants in one, fiery swoop, had the right idea after all? If Claire didn't kill this person now, she and Peter's family – now her family – would always be at risk. They would always be running for their lives, looking over their shoulders to make sure their loved ones were safe.

She had never killed anyone before, but it seemed justified, given what had happened to Audrey. She really wanted to, to savour the satisfaction of avenging her friend. But then she remembered Peter's face after he had – rightly or wrongly – killed their attackers earlier in the week. There had been sweet, ringing triumph but also horror, shame, guilt and a thousand other things she knew he'd felt but hadn't had the chance to speak about yet. She knew though, she knew because he knew.

She didn't want to be a killer, not really. So she dropped the poker and punched the woman, hard. She drew blood but at least the woman was only unconscious and not dead.

She was so intent on making sure the woman wasn't dead that she missed a second man who had crept up behind her until it was too late. She briefly felt the tip of a cold blade plunge into her neck but before it could sever her spinal cord the pain abruptly stopped. There was a scream and then a groan, before she heard the knife clank dully onto the floor.

She whipped around, stunned by how close she had come to death. Her gaze flittered up to her saviour, settling on Sylar. Instinctively she grabbed the back of her neck to stymie the flow of blood even as her skin was healing back to perfection.

He was so calm, so still. The eye of the storm maybe, but she didn't have the chance to think about it any longer. "Claire, you need to go."

"Go? I'm not going anywhere –"

"It's Peter. You need to help him."

It was the last thing she had expected her hear. She had momentarily forgotten about Peter in the midst of all the chaos, and the guilt made her angry. "But I need to help –"

"I'll do it. I'll get the others out." She looked at him sceptically, wanting to believe he was being genuine but also remembering him as the man who had sliced Jackie's head off. She got that he wanted Linderman dead as much as the rest of them, but no matter how much she trusted it, she couldn't trust him. And getting the others out – that had nothing to do with their plan against Linderman. "I'll get them out, I promise." His eyes were dead, devoid of feeling. Glinting black and cold as steel.

She didn't know how she was expected to trust him, but she did – for now. "Where is he?"

"He found Linderman. In his study, top floor." There was something in his voice that Claire didn't like. It was almost like hesitation, doubt … fear?

"What is it?"

"It's not making sense to me, what Linderman's doing. He's not –"

"Some help here please?!" Niki was making no effort to cloak her fear and impatience. As promised, Sylar responded almost immediately, running across the room even as he telekinetically threw two attackers off Niki.

She looked as astonished as Claire felt at being rescued by Sylar. But she didn't look a gift horse in the mouth, nodding with pursed lips at her rescuer even as he bent and lifted Hana into his arms.

He turned around, eyes narrowing in Claire's direction. "Go. He needs you. Something's not right."

Claire looked around at the chaos and carnage, but Ando and Jerry had already managed to get Gavin out through the broken door. Niki, Nathan and Hiro she knew could hold their own for the time being, and Sylar already had Hana on the way out the door.

"Go!" He barked. Claire didn't need telling twice.

_to be continued ..._


	25. Chapter Twenty One Part II

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**"Fading to Black"**

**Part II**

Claire's head was a vortex filled with guilt, anxiety, anger and a thousand other things she couldn't put a name to. As she ran panting and gasping up the grand, semi-circular staircase that wound its way across the cavernous marble foyer, not once did she pause to reconsider her decision.

Could her friends survive against such high odds without her? Sylar had promised to get Niki, Nathan, DL and the others out and she'd believed him in the heat of the moment. Was she being wilfully blind? Did she want to be with Peter so much she would take a murderer's word at face value just for an excuse to do so?

She felt guilty; guilt at taking the first opportunity to selfishly pursue her own interest. She would have to carry that guilt around for the rest of her life, but she wasn't sorry. She would never be sorry when it came to Peter.

At the upstairs landing, she frantically looked up and down the corridors – east, west, and north – they all looked the same to her. She was one happy meal short of a complete breakdown and knew that if she stopped now, even for a second, she would collapse in a fit of paralysing uncertainty.

So she chose a hallway completely at random. That was how she'd always rolled. She was the tempestuous one; jumping off buildings to test her strength, crashing cars into walls to see a rapist get his. Peter was the quiet, sensitive one. He was her guide, her conscience, her saviour. He'd always be, no matter how many times they would save each other.

Well, he wasn't here now and she only had her body and instincts to rely on. Taking a deep breath, she picked the north wing and ran down the corridor.

It was crazy how big Linderman's house was. It wasn't just the size that was escalating her panic; it was the complete silence on the top floor. Granted, she was now at the other wing of the house, as far away from the fighting as the house afforded, but still. Maybe Linderman had his house sound proofed. Or maybe Hiro had stopped time once again, literally giving time to Sylar, Nathan and Niki to get people out.

She had been so preoccupied with finding Peter – and not panicking and choosing a direction and god knew what she was actually going to do when she did find him or why Sylar had insisted so strongly on her going to find Peter – that she had completely forgotten another resource available to her. Furtively she tapped her earpiece, not knowing whether Mohinder had been with her the whole time. "Are you there?"

There was nothing for a long time, only static staccatoing in between her gasping. She had instant regeneration, not supreme fitness. All this running around, the anxiety and the fighting were draining her energy. A person could only run on adrenalin for so long. "Mohind –"

"Claire? Is that –?"

"It's me." It was all she could get out before gasping for more breath. "I'm going after Peter. The others –" She wasn't sure whether she would be able to explain in a reasonable, coherent manner to Mohinder but luckily she didn't have to.

"It's okay." He sounded more frazzled than she was, which wasn't a good sign. "Ando came out with – with Jerry. And Sylar –" It sounded like he almost choked on his own words. "Sylar came back with Hana."

"Are the others out yet?"

"No." He was too tense, too afraid. "They aren't letting us go Claire. They won't let us go alive. They'll hunt us down to the last man, I'm sure of it."

His voice – normally so certain – now verged on hysteria. It stunned her, enough to make her pause. "What do you mean?"

"Sylar and Hiro can't get Niki and Nathan out, and DL and – Matt – shit, Matt's still in there with them. They can't help them, they're stuck here –"

"Wait a minute, slow down –"

"Everyone's outside, Hiro and Sylar and Ando, they're fighting them off, I should be helping."

She didn't need to hear that. "Wait, what's Matt doing inside –?"

"He went to help. After Audrey ..."

Mohinder didn't need to finish. They both knew exactly why Matt had hurled himself into the fray. Claire didn't blame him at all.

There was a barely audible click. It only took a second for Claire to realise what it was, but by then it was too late. "Mohinder?"

There wasn't even static this time, just silence. Dead silence she would call it, if she had to describe it to somebody. But there was no one to describe it to, because everyone had left her and she was now well and truly alone.

Or she had left everyone else. At this stage, the difference seemed irrelevant.

Claire felt strangely empty and silent inside. The house was a yawning expanse of nothingness and she had no idea where Peter and Linderman were. There was no doubt in her mind Peter had found his target; what he would do afterwards was her best guess.

She peered down the hall as far as she could see. The area was too quiet to be the setting for a showdown so she doubled back to her starting point, going down the east wing this time. Doubt still gnawed at her, but at least she was doing something.

This was good. While she was running, panting, out of breath, she wouldn't have to wonder what on earth she would do once she found them; what on earth a girl with a defensive power like healing do in the presence of two titans in control of so many destinies it almost made her faint to comprehend it?

She rounded a corner, past ornate treasures of ages past, things she had never taken an interest in calmer times but maybe she should; she should learn to appreciate art and culture and music and things she'd always labelled as "stuff" and ignored, because these were all part of life. A life she had missed so far. A life she now wanted.

She wouldn't miss them again, she promised herself. When she and Peter make it out of this alive – and they will – she'll make him show her all these things and more.

At the end of the hall she saw she had reached her goal. Shattered remnants of a pair of French double doors, the glass panels smashed to bits, were strewn across the richly carpeted floor. The entire wall seemed to have collapsed in on itself, no doubt the effect of its brief struggle with Peter.

It looked like Peter wasn't hiding his firepower from Linderman. She only had a few steps more, a few more steps until –

Until she ran into the room and came face to face with the man himself, the enemy who had made their lives a nightmare.

Linderman stood, proud and straight, not at all like the doddering grandfather he could have been. His pinstripe suit fitted him comfortably and even from this distance she could

tell that it had an immaculate cut; it was clear it was an extremely well tailored suit.

Claire saw that Peter had cornered him against the far wall, his hand shaking and outstretched. "Ah, Ms Bennet you're just in time. I was almost on the verge on – neutralising – Peter here." He sighed and it was really creepy; the old man had the air of a kindly patriarch addressing errant grandchildren. What was creepier was that he didn't appear to be phased by Peter, looking angrier than Claire had ever seen, arms outstretched towards his prey. And yet here Linderman was, talking to her and Peter like he was talking to harmless children. "You've grown up splendidly Peter." Linderman focused on her then, blue eyes alight. "Peter was always such a sickly little thing, always tagging along after Nathan. But you've finally grown up to the man your father thought you'd be. He'd be proud. _I'm _proud."

"You – shut up!" Peter hissed, ready to telekinetically choke the old man. As offended as she was, Claire couldn't hide her shock when Peter advanced more fully into the sunlight, allowing her to glimpse his expression for the first time. It was – she had trouble comprehending it – but he looked so _ugly_. Sneering, violent, dark. Tempestuous, like the fire from a thousand hells; burning, flaming, eternal and deep, ready to be unleashed.

This wasn't him. This was – she didn't know who he was. This was what Sylar had meant, when he had almost urged her to go. _"He needs you." _Sylar had said. How had he known?

She never thought she'd ever be grateful to Sylar. Gabriel, she amended internally. Maybe he had changed enough, just enough to save them all.

She advanced further into the room, much more slowly now, aware Peter's sanity and powers teetered on a precarious edge. Why wasn't Linderman more afraid? Did his powers allow him some protection? Or worse still, would his ability over life and death allow him to produce a trump card they wouldn't see coming?

This was something Claire had never been meant for. Thinking and strategising and powers and abilities. This was Mohinder's job, or perhaps Nathan's or Hiro's. Not Claire. Never Claire. She wasn't meant to be the one doing this.

She swallowed down bile and fear and a thousand other things she couldn't describe. "Peter –"

She was going to have to coax him, call to him, hoping to dredge some semblance of normality with her voice. But she stopped short when she saw the devastation they were in the middle of.

An island in a sea of bodies. It was the only way she could have described it. Bits of wood, remnants of furniture that had once adorned the room she now found herself in. The room itself was cavernous, large enough to be a ballroom perhaps, ceilings with intricate patterns that stretched into infinity, finished off by sumptuous tapestry and wood panelling. Meticulously decorated with old world charm, Angela Petrelli had been there to tell her with her society matriarch's voice. Two chandeliers would have hung at precisely one third of the way across the room, brocade and velvet curtains completing the centuries old feel. Chairs that could have belonged to kings and queens of ages past – perhaps did so – would have lined the side of the room, ready for tired ball goers to rest their weary feet.

Only now, courtesy of Peter, they were part of the debris, a battleground, their beauty forever lost.

She corrected herself. Not a battleground, but a grave. Her eyes scoured the room, littered with the bodies of people she'd never known. They had all been her enemies she told herself, but had they really deserved to die? She wondered how Peter had done it, how he had killed. With fire perhaps or had he choked them to death?

"He killed Claude." Peter's voice was hallow, dead and she reeled. Had he heard her? Heard her almost condemn him? She hadn't been of course, she could never.

"What?"

"Claude." She ached at seeing the eyes she loved so much well with so much pain. "Claire, they killed Claude. That's how he got us to come here, instead of sticking to our plan." He was so furious it seemed he could hardly get the words out. "They – replaced him – with someone who _looked _like him –"

"It's true." Despite his predicament, Linderman remained calm, unruffled. Claire imagined he'd start filing his nails nonchalantly any second. "Candice had the wonderful ability to look like anyone she wanted to. At least she did, before Peter killed her."

She didn't know why that shocked her, but it did. It didn't matter though; whatever Peter had done, it didn't matter because she trusted him. "She killed Claude." Claire murmured, turning back to Peter. She reached out; she needed to touch him, temper the tempest that was raging inside him.

"And Peter killed Candice. An eye for an eye I think." The old man's eyes were alight. "You murdered her in cold blood."

"She had to pay for what she did." Peter shrugged her hand off, advancing on Linderman, fury incarnate. "And you're going to _pay _for it. For _all _of it."

This was it, the moment Claire had been dreading, the stuff of her personal nightmares. She saw his eyes darken into obsidian fury, rage and blackness boiling over barriers he'd set up long ago to prevent an explosion that had never eventuated. But what was being unleashed was an explosion of a different kind and she was powerless to stop it.

Linderman smiled beatifically, spreading his arms Christ-like. "You can't kill me Peter. You can try, but you can't."

"Peter, no." Claire rushed to him, holding him back. This wasn't right. Linderman was being too calm. "Don't do this."

"This is all his fault Claire. I _have _to. Or he'll never stop coming after us."

"No –" She couldn't finish because she felt herself being flung – gently, but still being flung – back against the wall, too far to reach out to him. To far to look into his eyes and plead for him to stop.

She connected with the wall and gasped as she slid down, winded for a moment. She was only on the ground for a few seconds, but it was enough for what happened next.

Peter advanced on Linderman, arms before him, face etched in concentration. Claire knew he was going to telekinetically lift Linderman from the ground to choke him on the spot.

But nothing happened. Peter stared at his hands, surprised, and tried again, but nothing happened. Linderman smiled but it was chilly now, all the sun being blocked from the room. .

She heaved herself from the ground, running to intercept Peter. But she was too far from them, she wouldn't reach him in time. "Peter, no! Don't!"

Finally Linderman was within his physical reach. Peter reached out but froze mid way, unable to continue. His hand started to shake; at first it was only slight, but soon the tremoring gave way to shuddering. From one hand it travelled to the other until Peter's entire body seemed to vibrate, way too harshly for a normal body to handle.

Even with his healing, Peter's body was being broken apart; a house with the bricks being removed one by one. He sank to his knees, arms clutching his sides, howling and gasping in pain. Blood streamed freely from his nose as he looked up at the old man now towering over him. "How –?"

"The power of life and death, Peter. This is it. I control everything about you. How can you use your power if I control your life?" Linderman bent, his smile benign. "How else did you think this would end?"

Even with the amount of pain he was in, Peter's only thought was for her. "You're – you're not taking Claire." He managed to gasp, even as Claire pelted toward them. She only had a few strides to go.

"You mistake me." Linderman's hand cupped Peter's head; he literally had Peter's life – his brain – in the palm of his hand. "I never wanted her. It's about you. It had _always _been about you."

Finally Claire reached them and immediately threw herself at Linderman, knocking him over. It was enough to break his concentration, allowing Peter to roll out of the way. She spun, expecting to see Peter's body heal like it usually did.

But it didn't; it seemed to her that she held her breath forever just waiting for it to happen.

He was as surprised as she was, but no longer had the energy to do anything besides fall onto the floor. She watched horrified, as blood began pouring out of his mouth, streams and rivers of it; he was choking on his own blood. "What did you do to him?!" She forgot the danger as she rushed to roll him over. "Why isn't he healing?!"

Linderman smiled, but the expression was no longer benevolent. "The power of life and death is supreme. You and your friends should have paid more heed to that before you tried to kill me."

Claire had no idea what he meant and frankly she didn't care. Seeing Peter gasping – dying so slowly and painfully enraged her beyond comprehension; everything she saw had a tinge of red to it. Had this been what Peter had been holding back all along? If so, she could relate for the first time.

"Stop it, stop killing him!"

"It's self-defence Miss Bennet. Surely you can see that."

His measured voice, cultured stance, broke her. Standing in front of the wide French windows in this elegantly decorated but shattered room, with the dark expanse of his estate behind him, he seemed an impenetrable herald of doom.

Her anger and rage suddenly started giving way to pain, waves and waves of skewing, shattering agony. It made her scream and screech; it felt like her insides were being scoured with acid. She hadn't felt pain like this ever, not even before her healing had manifested.

She fell to her knees, gasping and looking up only to see his blue eyes trained sympathetically onto hers. His sympathy hurt her more than the actual physical pain did.

"I'm sorry Miss Bennet. I'd wanted Peter, not you. You were just a means to get him here. You're his Achilles heel you see. I have no need of you now."

They'd been so stupid. Linderman had planned every step that had led them here. They'd come late to play in a game that he'd set the rules to.

It infuriated her that this was how their lives would end. She held her hand up to the light; during the scuffle it had been broken. What was new was the twisted bones and the searing pain that lingered long after it should have, lingered because her bones refused stubbornly to heal.

Linderman was slowly killing her too. Everything in her body ached and everything shook, she wouldn't be able to control her own body much longer.

It didn't seem to matter as much that she'd die. What incensed her was the thought of Peter dying; Peter who never once asked for the responsibility his powers had foisted on him. Peter who was the caring hospice nurse by trade, who had always been by her side, taken care of her, protected and rescued her. Peter who had insisted they wait until she was old enough for a relationship, Peter who had held her as her entire family had been wrenched from her grasp. Peter who was her ultimate hero, willing to sacrifice his safety for the greater good, to protect others. Peter who was her best friend, her perfect other, the one she had and would always turn to.

Peter who had been her salvation, who loved her, with all his heart and soul and he was going to die because she couldn't save him.

But _couldn't _wasn't a word in Claire's vocabulary.

She heaved herself up painfully on all fours, gasping, tears streaming down her face from the agony. Everything hurt, but it was okay. Because she was going to save Peter, even if that was the last thing she'd ever do.

"What do you think you're doing?" Linderman asked, even as she dragged herself to a standing position. Her legs were shaking and she felt like there were knives sticking into the soles of her feet. She was going to topple any second and her eyes were blinded by tears.

But still her voice came out strong; words crisp and even. "What I'm supposed to do."

And with that, she ran headlong at him, mustering all her remaining strength to tackle him, taking them both through the window and out onto the ground below.

* * *

The sky was dark now, but oddly, the stars shone brightly, illuminated by the rising moon.

She couldn't feel anything, knew that she was lying on her back on the grass, but couldn't feel it. She'd broken her spine maybe, or maybe she was well and truly dying and these were just the last moments she had left.

She regretted she couldn't see Peter one last time. She hoped the fall had killed Linderman, incapacitated him enough to give Peter a chance. She hoped Peter would survive, hoped he wouldn't be too desolate without her.

He was the love of her life and knew she was his and for that she was grateful. Grateful for the time she had with him, grateful that she was leaving with him on her mind.

She closed her eyes, one last breath escaping.

And then everything – everything – faded to black.

* * *

_Author's Note: Given the ending of this chapter, please refrain from flaming me. I promise it's for the good of the story, okay? ;-)_


	26. Chapter Twenty Two Part I

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**"Retribution and Salvation" **

**Part I**

When Peter opened his eyes again, everything was dark. So dark.

He didn't know how long he had been lying there, in what he would discover was likely a pool of his own blood.

He wrenched himself up, insides screaming with every movement. The pain – agony was probably a more accurate term – made him pause, because it was just so unusual for him to feel it.

He had forgotten what absolute agony felt like. He hadn't felt anything lingering like this for three years.

He had been spoiled by Claire's ability, the regeneration that had saved his life more times than he could count. She was always joking that he was ahead in their little game of who saved who, but they had never acknowledged that she would always be ahead by virtue of the simple yet incredibly complex gift she had given him.

Oh God. Claire.

He wheezed as blood poured from his nose and mouth, trying desperately to get up. How could he have forgotten her?

It all came rushing, careening, back to him now. The last thing he remembered was Linderman wrenching every last drop of agony from Peter's tired bones, then Claire kneeling over him, shouting and –

And then? She wasn't here now, which meant – he didn't know what it meant. The thought blaring in his mind was, where was she?

He tried, really tried to get to his knees, the first step in a long series of steps to actually getting up and helping Claire if she needed any help. He imagined his nightmare scenario, of her face blotched, bruised and bloodied by her encounter with Linderman. Lying helpless with her wide eyes, a window to the soul he loved, staring sightlessly at the night sky.

He gulped, willing, willing his muscles to work for one last time. He hated himself for being this weak, knew that even now he was succumbing to Linderman's power. He knew, even accepted that he was dying. He had simply sustained too many injuries to survive. Even his limited medical training let him know that.

But that wasn't what was important right now. What did he care about his own life when Claire's could potentially be hanging in the balance?

But try as he might, he couldn't get to his feet. He got as far as teetering onto his knees, his joints shattering in agony, before his legs gave way again.

He would have fallen to the floor but someone caught him – someone that, even in his depleted state, Peter instinctively needed to shy away from.

He looked straight into Sylar's dark, murky eyes; felt his almost repulsive hold around him. If he'd had enough energy left, Peter probably would have shuddered being in such proximity to him.

But Sylar's voice never wavered. "Where are they?"

* * *

He honestly did not remember what, if anything, he had told Sylar that sent the other man careening out of the ballroom. He only knew that one minute he was being lowered with surprising gentleness onto the floor and the next he had opened his eyes again, to what he didn't know.

What had he said to Sylar? He'd said he had seen –

It all came back to him now. He had seen Claire tackle Linderman, taking them both out the window. But they were on the first floor, which meant that they had fallen – that she had fallen –

What if Linderman had done the same thing to her as he had to Peter? What if he had taken away Claire's ability to heal and she had fallen and –

He didn't needed to finish the thought before attempting to get to his feet again. It may have been futile, but he wasn't going to die without doing something – anything – to save Claire. If Claire was in trouble he would be there for her, broken bones and sinews or not. They were two halves of the same whole and the possibility of her being in need and him not being there was – well, it was an impossibility.

But try as he might, he just couldn't get up. Tears streamed from his eyes, testimony to the agony that racked his body from the effort. If Nathan had been here he would've joked at Peter's expense how typical it was for him, shedding tears when there was work to be done. But no one, least of all Nathan, was here to see what Peter had been reduced to; it was either sink or swim as far as Peter was concerned.

He was pretty sure at least one of his legs were broken, maybe even his right arm which made hauling himself to his feet difficult. But that was no excuse. Claire had moved heaven and earth for him and he was being stopped by the frailty of his body.

He uttered a string of expletives that, although costing him a lot of effort, did nothing to improve his situation.

* * *

Peter was sure he was experiencing some weird form of déjà vu, because as he finally struggled onto his unbroken leg he saw Sylar walking – no running – towards him from the entrance of the ballroom. Again.

"What –?" Just forcing that word out of his mouth almost caused him to topple over and crumble into a convulsing heap.

Sylar didn't give him a chance to reform his sentence. "I'm going to take you to her." It was all he said before heaving Peter unceremoniously into a fireman's lift.

Okay, he finally gone insane, because this? Was really, really insane. But what choice did he have? If there was even the smallest chance Sylar was telling the truth, that he was going to take Peter to Claire, he would take that chance. Gladly take it, even if it made his skin crawl.

"What … what are you doing?" It would have been hard to talk under normal circumstances in this position, but being critically, maybe even fatally wounded and trying to talk upside down was worse.

Sylar didn't respond but continued to walk, carrying Peter away from the ballroom and down the stairs. Sylar had never been the sanest tool in the shed, but then again, if he was the only chance Peter had of getting to Claire at the moment, he would take it with both hands.

As repulsed as he was even by the merest contact with Sylar, Peter was forcing himself to breathe evenly. He was not going to be useful to Claire if he ended up a hyperventilating mess. Why Sylar couldn't use telekinesis to lift Peter up was a mystery; what wasn't was his complete inability to care what the hell was going on in Sylar's mind at the moment. That fact was only important by his continued inability to read the other man's mind, confirming that Linderman's power stayed intact.

They continued to make their way down the long hallway that led from the magnificent central staircase, a staircase Peter could hardly remember racing up. In fact, he could hardly remember anything beyond leaving the fight in the library after seeing Linderman's henchman pouring through the doors and feeling, knowing they had just walked into a trap.

A trap only Claire and Sylar had foreseen. It made him angry and furious beyond all measure. If only they had listened to them –

Wordlessly Sylar carried him to the garden, the biting chill of the night hitting him, hard. It wasn't long before even Peter saw the crumpled bodies of Claire and Linderman on the lawn.

Claire lay as still as a statue while Linderman was writhing ever so slightly on the ground, trying to get up just as Peter had futilely tried to do moments before. Peter could hear the distinct sounds of fighting elsewhere in the estate, but he only had eyes for Claire.

"Let me go." He didn't mean to snarl – after all, Sylar had brought him to Claire, he had to be grateful about that – but his impatience coupled with the agony ripping through his limbs got the better of his manners.

"You can't stand." Was Sylar's only reply as he felt himself being lowered onto the ground. He struggled valiantly to remain standing, but was forced to the ground by his idiotic body, broken and battered.

Damn it.

It didn't stop him from crawling on hands and knees to Claire. When he got there though, when he was able to gently brush away hair matted to her forehead, his entire being nearly broke.

He swore afterwards that he literally heard his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Her eyes were open, those wide, glorious eyes that in life always seemed to smile and wink in the sunlight. They were open and staring, sightlessly, up into the achingly clear night sky.

And he couldn't hear her breathing. Why couldn't he hear breathing?

He knew she was gone, felt it in bones that were broken almost beyond repair, felt it in his eyes that stung with fresh tears. Felt it in the way his heart seemed to stop beating as his mind and body refused to believe the truth.

"Claire." He whispered, trying uselessly to recall her from wherever she was, but she was gone. Heart, body and soul.

She was gone; never to come back. The thought held a surreal, macabre fascination for him. He had seen her die so many times but she had always come back; at the back of his mind he even fancied that she had come back for him.

He couldn't stand, couldn't sit up to cradle her head in his. Couldn't do anything to mourn except to wrap his shattered body around hers and sob, brokenly, into the crook of her neck.

He couldn't bear to see those horrible, sightless eyes on the woman he loved. "Please come back. Please, please come back." He didn't care that of all people, Sylar was witnessing the unchecked tears streaming down his face, didn't care that he had been reduced to this. Why would he care in a world where Claire was gone?

Immersed as he was, it almost escaped his attention that Sylar, after placing Peter onto the ground had approached Linderman. He stood over him, stilling for the longest moment as he watched the once powerful man twitching in what Peter hoped was agonising pain.

Linderman's lower body wasn't moving and even from this distance Peter could spot signs of paralysis. A fitting fate for a man who had destroyed the lives of so many.

Sylar stepped on Linderman's hand, causing the older man to wince aloud.

"Gabriel, let me go. I have all the answers you seek." It was incredible that even in the face of his own death, Linderman was able to remain so calm – collected even. "I know you have questions … so many questions. I know the truth about your parents. I could … I could give –"

"I don't need your answers, old man." Sylar bent down, placing even more pressure on Linderman's hand and stared intently into the older man's eyes. His powers still blocked, Peter couldn't read Sylar or Linderman's thoughts, but in retrospect maybe it was for the best. He had no idea what Sylar – Gabriel – whoever he was now – had gone through during those years of testing in Linderman's labs, but the mere fact of being killed then resurrected – rebooted so callously – gave Peter the chills. He and Claire were probably the only people that could understand what it was like to wake after death, but he had no idea what it was like to be tortured repeatedly and having that ability used against him.

"I don't need your answers." Sylar repeated, this time in a whisper, as he placed his hands around the old man's face. They were almost gentle, cupping his face even as Linderman realised what was about to happen. "What are you doing? What are you –?"

His words were cut off with a sickening crack. Sylar had snapped Linderman's neck.

As disgusted by the cold, calculating look on Sylar, Peter could only feel relief. And if he had to be honest with himself, he maybe even some satisfaction. His death had been retribution for the lives he had ruined, lives he had taken, all done in order to feed a power hungry man's ego.

Besides, if Sylar had felt too morally upright to kill Linderman, Peter would happy have to have. An eye for an eye, but as far as he was concerned, Linderman's life in no way atoned for the taking of Claire's.

He had plenty more mixed feelings but he wasn't able to focus on them, becoming distracted with the changes slowly taking over his body.

His hitched breathing slowed, returning to a more even, measured pace. The agony in his broken leg and arm suddenly lessened, dulling to a low throb before receding altogether. The familiar feeling of the gashes over his body kneading themselves together began washing over him and it was then that he realised that he was healing.

He was healing.

He collapsed on his back, taking care to keep a firm hold of Claire's hand and allowed the comfort and familiarity of what was happening to calm him. A sense of well being suffused him as the last vestiges of pain in his chest – probably a result of internal injuries, not that he will ever know what it had been exactly – receded, then disappeared altogether.

After precious seconds ticked by, he dared moving his limbs; first his hands then legs then finally, his body. He rolled onto his side, heaving himself from the ground with skin and bones that had been healed as good as new. Like every other time this had happened, he still felt shaky and slightly unstable, but the feeling was a hell of a lot better than what he had been experiencing just a few minutes ago.

He smiled at the thought but then remembered – Claire.

He threw himself onto the ground next to her, taking her hand with one of his, while the other brushed the last few strands of hair from her face. She looked so peaceful, so calm, so still.

Still dead.

His entire chest heaved, mind and heart shattering for a moment before he came to himself. His eyes snapped to Sylar's, who were intent, fixed, focused even. There was no panic in them, just curiosity.

Curiosity.

It was only then and only then, Peter realised he would be the source of Claire's salvation. It would be too much to say that trumpets sounded or the earth stood still in Peter's mind, but it wasn't an unfitting description of that moment of clarity, of epiphany.

She may be dead, but he – he had the ability to control life and death now. He had absorbed Linderman's power. Later he would consider the power more a curse than a blessing, but right now, in this moment – he thanked Sylar for doing what had needed to be done.

"Do you think –?"

"Do it." The steely look in Sylar's eyes frightened Peter a little and to be honest, he was getting used to them. Sylar – Gabriel – would always be a little unhinged, an inevitable consequence of everything he had been through.

Without further ado, Peter spread his hands across Claire, threading one of them through hers and placing the other over her heart. Somehow, the feel of her skin under his fingers made him that much more assured that he would be able to pull this off and bring Claire back.

He concentrated, harder than he had ever concentrated his entire life. He had gotten used to the off-kilter sensation that usually accompanied the first time he tried accessing an ability he had just absorbed, but now it irritated him. It was in there, floating somewhere inside his messy filing cabinet of a brain along with everything else he had collected over the years, but he just couldn't grasp it, hold onto the understanding enough for him to effectively use it. The power was so incredible, so complex, so – dare he say it – so god-like.

Sweat started beading his forehead as his concentration intensified. He would do it. He had to do it.

A warm feeling spread over his hands and he could feel it sinking through Claire's skin. It was working. It had to work. He had to save her, there was no other alternative.

Tortured moments crept by as nothing happened. She was as still as she had ever been, in death. Not even when Peter saw the pallor retreat from her skin did he believe he had been able to bring her back; didn't dare believe it until he saw her eyes flutter and her chest start heaving up and down. Didn't allow himself to weep or laugh in joy until he felt her breath against his face as he cradled her in his arms.

She was alive, well and truly alive.

"Oh god, Claire." It wasn't until that instant that Peter realised how much hope he had held back, how much of himself he had not been willing to part with. Even after seeing her still and lifeless, he had hoped.

Which was just as well that he hadn't lost hope in destiny.

The fluttering of her eyes soon gave way to a breathless sigh. He leaned over, still cradling her body in his arms. He was determined that he would be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.

"Peter." Her voice was weak and soft, spiralling into the ether like smoke. She reached up, trailing small fingers down his face. It wasn't until then he realised that he was still crying. It was very unmanly, but then again, he really didn't care. "Is that really you?"

He grasped her fingers in his, feeling sure he was never going to let them ago. "It is. It's me. I'm here."

She smiled, eyes shining. "You're alive."

Despite his tears, he could only smile in response. "I am." Of course he was, because of what she had done – what she had potentially sacrificed – for him. "You saved me."

He gently kissed her, savouring the sweetness of the moment. Despite everything that had happened, they were both alive, even if they weren't quite standing. The alternative had been too horrible to contemplate.

Her hair felt as soft as ever through his fingers; softer even, if his memory wasn't playing tricks on him. Maybe it was because of the intensity of the moment, their excruciating brush with death, but the very feel of her against his skin made his own come more alive at the touch.

A not very polite cough broke their exchange, attracting Claire's attention. She spied Sylar standing near them for the first time, but if she was repulsed or irritated, none of it showed in her eyes. Admiration for her rushed through him. "What –?"

"I'll tell you all about it later." Peter shushed her, knowing explanations were due.

But he didn't know what had happened with the others and if they needed help, then he would be there for them, just like she had been for him. "I have to see whether the others are okay."

Truth be told, the plight of Matt and the others had escaped him for those minutes between finding himself on the ballroom floor and seeing Claire breathe again. But now that the thought had returned to him, he couldn't suppress the urgency and onrush of guilt. What if those minutes spent with Claire had been the difference between life and death for the others? Had he effectively sacrificed all their lives for Claire? Nathan, Matt, Mohinder – friends he had come to love and respect, gone in the blink of his eye because he had been too distracted in his grief?

"Relax." He was no longer repulsed by Sylar, which was odd. Claire grimaced as she struggled to get up in Peter's arms, unconsciously taking the hand offered to her by Sylar. If anyone had told him a few days ago that this scene would unfold before his eyes, Peter would have laughed – then promptly smacked some sense into that person.

Because it was crazy, but the undeniable fact was that Sylar/Gabriel – he had to decide one of these days who the guy actually was – had saved both him and Claire from certain death. Which meant Claire's trust in him and thereby Peter's trust in Sylar by default had been absolutely right.

"The others got out safely. We regrouped in the grounds and Niki really let loose. Guess she got pissed when they attacked." The memory made Sylar smile, which Peter still found a little creepy. He wasn't sure what was particularly happy about Niki going berserk on a bunch of people. "She and Nathan organised the others into offense outside the gates, used the weapons we had stocked at the base. Took out Linderman's people with some … I think they were rocket launchers or something. After we took care of the key people, taking out the rest was easy."

Peter wasn't exactly sure what taking people out actually meant, but in the afterglow of finding Claire alive and breathing, he really hoped that Sylar meant merely putting them out of action without killing them. There had been enough death and destruction for one day.

"Did everyone make it?" Claire's voice was still raw, her tone uneven. Peter's hold on her instinctively tightened.

It was strange that he chose to notice anew at that moment just how beautiful she was. Soft skin, luscious blonde hair and brilliant green eyes, fully focused on him. "What?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, bemused by his own sentimentality. He had always hated Nathan teasing him about being girly when it came to feelings and emotions, but he found the feelings refreshing now. He had been so angry and out of control the past few weeks and feeling like this – feeling love and hope rush through him, as corny as it sounded, felt like home.

Even Sylar skulking about wasn't going to ruin this feeling for Peter. Not right now, anyway.

"Everyone except Audrey." Was Sylar's simple response to Claire's question.

That brought Peter back to the present. Not that he didn't trust Sylar (well, maybe he didn't), but he needed to see that everyone was okay for himself.

"Can you walk?" Claire nodded gingerly as she tried out a few steps, still leaning on Peter's arm. When he was sure she was able to walk unaided, he hurried a few paces in front, eager to see Nathan and the others were all right.

Claire sensed his urgency, pushed him forward. "It's okay, I'll catch up."

He spun, reigning in his impatience as he waited for her to draw alongside him. "Like hell. I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again." He drew her to him to emphasise the point.

They made their way together to the front of Linderman's compound to find the others, with Sylar leading the way.

_

* * *

_

Author's Notes: I can only offer humble apologies for the long (long!) time between updates. Real life, etc got to me, plus the muse left. I must admit I've had this chapter sitting on my hard drive for a while, but I wasn't happy with the emotional resonance at all. I took a break and rewrote heaps of it, so hopefully it rings a bit truer.

_There are only 2 parts left to update - Part II to this chapter, and the Epilogue. I make no promises about the time, but I do promise it is at the top of my writing priorities! _


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